


The Annual Purge: Vengeance

by DuschaPendragon



Series: The Thirteen Tales [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Purge: Anarchy (2014)
Genre: All crime is legal, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Human Hunting, Multi, Revenge, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 35,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuschaPendragon/pseuds/DuschaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lannisters have ruled Westeros peacefully since the last Purge. The Starks are gone; killed with the help of the Bolton's and the Frey's. But the North remembers. Many are seeking vengeance for their dead. No one witnessed the killing of the Stark girls and no bodies have been found, apart from Joffrey's, who had sworn that he would be the one to kill the she-wolves. There is also no sign of the Stark boys and Theon Greyjoy has been missing for the past year. But sometimes, screams of agony and terror are heard from deep within the Dreadfort. Could they belong to the missing kraken?<br/>It is the night of the annual Purge in the city of Westeros. For twelve hours, all crime including murder is legal. All emergency services such as the City Watch, the Kings Guard and the Night's Watch will be suspended. There is going to be a war out there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nanjcsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/gifts).



> Just a heads up, this is a sequel to my piece The Annual Purge, so if you haven't read that, this might not make a lot of sense.

_He could smell it. The sweet stench filled the darkness. For so long, he had tried to resist. He shouldn’t go to it. For days now, he had waited in the darkness. And that smell tormented him every waking hour of his never ending night. He knew it was a trick. The rotting fruit was not his to eat. No matter how hungry he was, no matter how sweet it smelled, he wouldn’t…_   
_The other one placed a hand on the concrete. He could hear the flesh smack against it, but when he looked down to see it, only darkness looked back at him. The other one placed the other hand down. Smack. “No!” He whined. “Master said no! Master said he would come back! Master said he’d bring food if I was good…”_   
_“Master says! Master says!” The arrogant voice mocked back. “Master says you get food. He never said I would!” It snarled._   
_“That’s because you are very bad, always bad. I am good R…”_   
_“Don’t say it!” The other snapped._   
_“Reek! I am Reek, it rhymes with weak, meek and sneak!” He howled in a moment of defiance._   
_“You are not Reek! You are Theo…” Before he could say the bad name, Reek lifted his hands from where the other had left them and clamped them down over his ears. “Not listening! Not listening!” He whined, leaning forward into the darkness and resting his head onto the cool filthy concrete._   
_They were both silent for a moment._   
_“So…” Theon said. “What are you going to do about that piece of fruit then?”_

***

“CLAMS! Come and get your clams! Fresh from the water! The best in Westeros!” They weren’t. That was a lie. She’d tasted one. She’d never tried a clam before, but that one she did try tasted like a wet shit as it slid down her throat. Nevertheless, it had at least been food. “Come and buy your clams!” She yelled again.  
“Are you thick or something boy?” She heard a man growl behind her. She turned around. “Would you like to buy a clam Ser? One’s only a copper!” She replied, feigning ignorance.  
“I don’t want your fucking clams. You’d better get inside, somewhere safe. This night is no place for a kid like you to be out on the streets.” She took him in. He was dressed all in red. “Are you fighting for the Lannister’s tonight Ser?” She asked sweetly.  
“Yeah, not much fighting gonna be going on though. Anyway, what’s it to you?” He grumbled. He was shifty, eager to be gone. _I could slip a blade in him and he wouldn’t even notice_. “Would you like to buy some clams Ser?” She asked again. He sighed in frustration. “Deaf bitch.” He mumbled, storming off. She frowned. She didn’t get his name.  
Shrugging, she turned around and looked at the big clock that watched over the harbour. An hour. An hour was all that stood between her and her vengeance.  
It was an hour too long.  
She hurried back to where Brusco was closing up his shop. “Thought you’d have gone already.” He muttered in his thick Braavosi tongue. She just shrugged and emptied the tray of clams back into the water. Were it any ordinary night, he would’ve checked to see how many she’d sold. But there wasn’t time. “You’d better be gone now Cat. Go find someplace safe.” He said. For a moment, she thought he would offer her his house to shelter in, but he remained tight lipped. He barely knew her. For all he knew, she was a regular participant in the annual Purge. Looking at her, you wouldn’t think it, but no one could be trusted. Not when any crime was legal. She nodded, put her tray down, and hurried from the fishmongers. She walked a little way before turning to watch him shut the shop up. He barred the windows and doors before finally disappearing behind a thick sheet of metal that rolled down, keeping himself locked inside. She blinked. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she wondered off through the streets, her feet taking her where she needed to be. “One…two…three…” She counted as she padded down the steps. On the seventh step, she stopped. She knelt down, feeling for a loosened brick. It stood out only if you felt it; sticking out half a centimetre further than the rest. She grasped it as best she could and wiggled it until it loosened enough for her to pull it out completely.   
The hilt glinted in the fading sunlight.  
She grasped it. It became a part of her almost immediately. She pulled her elongated arm out and placed the brick back in its place. Standing, she unsheathed the sword. “Time to put my needlework to practise.” She said. Then she felt stupid. Needlework was for little girls. She wasn’t a little girl. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell. The sword grinned at her as she raised it so the sunlight could dance upon the metal. Unable to resist the urge, she kissed it. The metal felt cool and reassuring beneath her lips. “Valar Morghulis.” She whispered.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek and Theon's argument is brought to a halt. The next vengeance-seeker prepares for her nights work.

_“I will. Not. Eat. The. Fruit.” He growled._   
_“But it smells so good! All sour and rotten…” The voice mocked back._   
_“Shut up!” Reek snapped._   
_“Which will rot first. The fruit? Or you?” Theon laughed._   
_“SHUT UP! Master will come back. He will! He said so! And then he will punish me. Not you. Me! I always get punished for you being bad.” Reek whined._   
_“Then fight back.” It sounded so simple. So easy. But it wasn’t. Once he saw those cold grey eyes, his courage would desert him. “No! I am good Reek! Loyal Reek! I’ve always been Reek! You’re nothing! You’re a turncloak! You’re a bad man! I am just Reek. Just born to serve and love Ramsay.” He howled._   
_“You DON’T love him! Don’t say that! Have you no pride?” Theon forced Reeks head up, then brought it back down onto the concrete with a hard thwack. Reek yowled in pain. When he clasped his forehead, he could feel the hot blood stick to his thin fingers. He could feel his head begin to thump, as though it were being used as a drum. Was it from hitting his head, or was Theon tapping in there? Reek slapped himself around the face. “Stop that!” He growled._   
_The drumming would be better than what he heard next._   
_Footsteps. Footsteps so heavy that bits of dust fell down onto his head. Reek froze as he heard them descend the stairs. They were going extra slowly. Master knew it would terrify him. It pleased Master to see his pet cowering in terror the moment he opened the door. So Reek crouched low onto the floor and kept his eyes down in a submissive gesture. That didn’t stop his eyes hurting when the door swung open and the light turned on. The bulb glared down on him. “Well hello there bitch.” Ramsay stepped into the room._

_***_

The sight of it repulsed her. Lying there, grotesque, on her crisp linen sheets. What right did it have to be there? Why couldn’t he put the fucking gold one on like any decent man would and cover up his shame? Sick of the sight of it, she checked to see if he was still sleeping before slipping out of the sheets. He didn’t even stir when she moved. He shouldn’t do. She’d worked hard enough to tire him out.  
Cersei padded, barefoot and naked as her name day, across the room and over to her wardrobe. Easing the door open, she slid her hand in, feeling her way through the fabrics until she found the one she wanted. Checking that Jaime was still asleep, she carefully pulled the clothes out and hooked them onto the handle of the wardrobe. As quietly as she could, she began to dress. She quickly pulled on her underwear. The vest top came next; simple white cotton that would prevent the leather from rubbing against her soft, fair skin. Then came the cotton leggings, followed by tight leather trousers. She had had them add on steel plates over the shins and thighs for extra protection. She could take the weight. She was stronger than they thought she was. The leather jacket was next. That was even more elaborate. The leather had been died a deep red and lions of all manner of sizes had been tooled onto it. She fastened the metal breast plate on and rubbed at the steel on the arms of the jacket, growling softly as her finger marks smeared onto the once pristine metalwork. She flinched when the chainmail around her neck tinkled and turned to check if Jaime was still asleep. He snored lightly as if to confirm it. She grimaced. The belt came last. Gently, she pulled out the lower drawer to her dresser and pulled out her dagger and shotgun, placing them into the compartments allocated for them on her belt. She turned to the mirror and fixed her hair as best she could with the restriction of the armour that covered her arms. The dying sunlight turned it a deep golden and her deep green eyes sparkled. She smiled. This was her night. Tonight, she would show them all what she could do. All the men around her that thought she was weak, just because she was a woman. She turned away from her reflection and picked up the steel-capped boots that were waiting for her beside the door. Then her eyes spotted the rifle. It was Jaime’s; the name of it grinned at her from where it was engraved. Oathkeeper. She had to suppress her snort. _“Oh yes, the name that would strike fear into the hearts of thousands.”_ She thought bitterly.  
She picked it up.   
“And where do you think you’re going with that?” She froze at Jaime’s groggy voice. Spinning around, she tilted her chin up defiantly. Proudly. “Don’t even think of trying to stop me Jaime.” She said.  
“You’re going after him?” He asked, swinging around so that he was sitting onto the bed. For a moment, he forgot his missing hand and went to lean back casually on it. She smirked as he almost fell back onto the sheets, gasping with pain. “Of course I’m going after him. With you left crippled, who else is there?” She snarled.  
“Let’s see. Merryn Trant, Ilyn Payne, The Mountain…”  
“He was our son!” She spat. “Tell me again, when was it you turned craven? Willing to lie there in bed whilst the bastard who murdered our first boy walks the streets, doing as he pleases.”  
“Let the men deal with it Cersei, come back to bed.” He implored.  
“No. I’ve had enough of sitting around waiting for the men to deal with it all. Our son was murdered, and we know who killed him. If you aren’t going to do anything, then I will!” She hissed. Jaime raised an eyebrow. That was his only movement. With one last scornful glare, she swung the rifle onto her shoulder and swept from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay delivers Reek some good news and the next vengeance seeker makes her first appearance.

_Ramsay paused, savouring the fear that filled the dank air. He could taste it. He smiled. His pet remained hunched over and Ramsay could hear him breathing frantically. Ramsay took a step forward and waited. The breathing calmed and, without needing to be reminded, Reek began to crawl towards him. He dragged his forehead along the floor and remained low, submissive. Ramsay suppressed a chuckle. Finally, Reek reached him and began to kiss his boots. Ramsay reached down and ruffled his pets’ hair. Reek reacted immediately; he raised his head and moved against the hand, like a dog that was enjoying a fuss. “Good Reek.” Ramsay cooed. His pet gazed up at him, his eyes shining with adoration and relief. Then he scuttled closer still and began to rub his face affectionately up and down Ramsay’s leg. Ramsay sighed at the familiar feeling of pleasure he felt whenever his pet did that, once again marvelling at how his dim-witted pet knew exactly what he liked. Then he swallowed. It would have to wait. “Enough pet.” He muttered. Reek stopped immediately and knelt in front of his master. Ramsay crouched down in front of him so that their eyes were level. It was, in a way, its own reward. It was very rare that Ramsay would lower himself to his pets’ level. He smiled when he saw the pleasure in Reek’s eyes. “Tonight is a very special night Reek. Do you know why?” The pleasure turned to panic. Reek broke eye contact with his master, thinking frantically. He began to whimper. Ramsay grabbed his chin and forced his pet to look at him. A tear leaked out and ran down Reek’s cheek. “I’m s…sorry Master. I…I can’t remember!” Reek wailed. More tears began to flow. Ramsay lifted his thumbs and wiped the tears away. “It’s alright pet. It’s been a very long and hard time for you, so I’ll tell you. It’s our anniversary! On this night last year, you were born Reek, my pet.” Ramsay exulted as the familiar adoration returned to Reek’s face._   
_“Yes master, Reek remembers now. Master brought Reek into the world. Loyal Reek. Good Reek!”_   
_“Yes Reek!” Ramsay laughed, stroking his pets face. “And to celebrate, I’ve brought you a present!”_

_***_

The polished wood shone a deep red in the fading light. She ran her hand along it, marvelling once again at how something so smooth and beautiful could be so deadly. “Alayne! Alayne! What is this? Release me right NOW!” She heard him yell. Putting the crossbow down, she turned around and went into the next room. “I’m not Alayne. I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell.” She announced. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again. From his place on the bed, Petyr stared at her, taking in the changes. She had rinsed out the dye from her hair and had braided it so that it was out of the way. Her clothes were all either grey or white. She would hide it no longer; she was a Stark, not a Stone.   
Sansa observed the familiar hunger in Petyr’s eyes and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Don’t look at me like that.” She growled, turning around and going back into the walk in wardrobe. Even now, did he still look at her and think of her mother? The thought of it both repulsed and saddened her. How she had put up with it for so long she had no idea. An entire year of him watching her, fantasizing and, when he had felt she was completely under his spell, bringing some of those fantasies to life. She shuddered. She had never been under his spell. She never forgot how he would whisper her own mother’s name into her ear. It had always made her want to throw up and wish for anything else.  
Even Joffrey.  
She longed to be able to look deep into those beautiful green eyes of his again.  
But Joffrey was dead. That bastard had murdered him.   
She wanted to look deep into Joffrey’s eyes again, and see the fear in his eyes as she readied her crossbow.  
That bastard had taken her vengeance from her.  
Sansa picked up the crossbow and smiled. The crossbow had always been Joffrey’s favourite weapon; he’d loved nothing more than to point it at her and make her do whatever pleased him. She was tired of doing what people wanted. Tonight, she’d be the one holding the crossbow, and her enemies would do what she wanted. “Alayne, sweetheart, can’t we just talk for a moment!” Petyr called. She rolled her eyes and went back into the bedroom, crossbow in hand. Petyr’s eyes widened and the hunger was gone. He began to twist and writhe frantically on the bed, desperate to free himself from the ropes that bound him. Good, some moving target practised. She readied the arrow. “After all I’ve done for you? I’ve taught you everything! I’ve saved you from the Lannister’s! I’ve treated you like a daughter!” He growled.   
“You’re right. Thank you Daddy.” The Alayne voice was back. She lowered the crossbow. Petyr released a sigh of relief. “Good girl, I knew you didn’t mean it. Now, Alayne, untie me and we can talk.” He looked at the ropes, then at her. She smiled. “No Daddy. I’m done talking.” She raised the crossbow.  
Bullseye.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a very out of character Sansa, but I just want her to kick some butt! She will show some Sansa-ry qualities throughout the story so it's not like she'll be thrown completely out of the window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay gives Reek his present. A Kraken rises from the sea as the hour of commencement approaches.

_Reek flinched as Ramsay reached into his pocket. He half expected him to pull out a flaying knife, but he had been so good! Master had said so himself!_  
 _Ramsay’s smile widened with each whine and flinch his pet made, then he finally pulled out the object._  
 _Reek cowered as Master, painfully slowly, opened his hand. There was no knife. There wasn’t even a needle to cause pain with. But the sight of the object brought back memories more painful than any weapon. The hair was braided and fastened together at the ends with a crudely wrought catch. “I KNOW WHAT IT IS!” Theon screamed. Reek whined, struggling to suppress the bad man. He took a step forward, still on all fours, and sniffed at the lock of hair as a dog would. He wasn’t sure if it was just the memory, or if the scent of him still lingered after all this time. “Reek, you remember don’t you? Do you remember whose hair this was?” Master asked. Reek paused. The scent of a trick replaced the faint smell of Jon. He looked up into his Master’s eyes and saw the test. His Master waited, the smile still on his face. “No Master. Reek doesn’t remember.” He replied. He held his breath._  
 _Ramsay’s face was unreadable._  
 _Reek was sure he’d turned purple by the time his Master spoke. “Very good pet! This hair belongs to that naughty bastard, Jon Snow. You did meet him, but not for very long. He had nice hair, so as I am such a kind and generous Master, I had it made into a collar for you to wear on this very special night.”_  
 _“Thank you Master! I am good Reek, grateful Reek.” He mumbled. Theon wanted to retch at the feeling of pleasure Reek got as Ramsay fastened the new collar around his neck. Reek whined as he tried to prevent Theon from ripping it off. “There you go Reek.” Ramsay moved away to get a clearer view. He liked what he saw; Reek knelt on all fours, gazing up at him adoringly, covered only by what had once been a large pillow case, but now had holes for the head and arms. The collar fitted in perfectly on his pitiful creature. He allowed his gaze to wander and took in the state of what had once been his room, but was now Reek’s. In the far corner, a bed had been made out of dirty straw, Ramsay noticed a pile of fruit. Frowning, he said “Reek, you didn’t eat the fruit I left for you Reek.”_  
 _“I’m s…sorry Master. B…but I didn’t get your permission to touch the fruit.” Reek replied timidly, wringing his hands together nervously._  
 _“Well you’d better eat it all up Reek, because you’re going to need all the strength your weak little self can muster.” Ramsay informed, smiling._  
 _Reek crawled over to him and kissed his boots. “May I ask why Master?” He asked quietly. He trembled at the silence that followed. Had he been too bold?_  
 _“Because my pet, we are going out.” Ramsay announced, ruffling his pets hair._  
 _“Out…Master?” Reek squeaked, shocked._  
 _“Yes Reek. I’m taking you outside!”_

_***_

“You will say nothing to anyone, understand me?” She growled, pressing the knife into his throat.  
“But…at least let me come with you!” He begged.  
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my men. And you are all loved up and stupid, you’ll only get in the way Tris.” She muttered, sheathing the knife and gathering up the rest of her weapons.  
“I’ll only get in the way if someone fires a bullet at you!” He declared. Asha rolled her eyes. “See what I mean? Loved. Up. You’ll only do something stupid! Besides, obviously depending on how powerful the gun is, chances are the bullet would go right through you and hit me anyways.” She replied matter-of-factly.  
“At least we’d die together.” He muttered.  
“Oh God, I’d forever be stuck sitting opposite you in the Drowned God’s watery halls. There’d be no escape! Honestly Tris, I couldn’t imagine anything worse.” Her words were sharp, but a fond smile went with them.  
“Oh, I think you could…” As if on cue, voices from downstairs rose to an alarming level. Asha rolled her eyes again. “That’s beside the point.” She grumbled, strapping her battle axe onto her back and heading for the window. Before she could jump, Tris grabbed her hand. “What now Tris?” She snapped impatiently, taking a moment to check the clock. She was supposed to have left fifteen minutes ago. Only another fifteen minutes was left before the Purge began. “Who are you going with?” Tris asked, eyes searching hers.  
“I’ve told you, the guys.” She tried to snatch her hand away, but he refused to release his grip.  
“Is Qarl going?” He refused to meet her gaze, but she could see his cheeks redden. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Asha couldn’t say. She snatched her arm away. “For fuck sake.” She growled. Before he could stop her, she leapt up onto the windowsill. “We are not together Tris, the next time I have to tell you that will be the last. Now go and distract my Uncle’s so that they don’t see me as I pass the window.” She ordered. Tris’ head drooped from his daily dose of rejection, but he obeyed and left the room. Asha leapt from the windowsill onto the branch of the tree just outside her window. She walked along it, not wobbling or faltering once, before shimmying down the trunk. That was the easy part. As she reached the kitchen window, she heard the voices of her uncles. “There is still plenty of plunder along the Stony Shore. Who says we need go further than that? We must test our strength first. Much has changed since last year, we don’t know what we are capable of.” She heard Victarion say.  
“I agree. Much has changed. I am here for a start. But the Stony Shore? Really? Aren’t you supposed to be a great warrior Victarion? Or is that a craven? You have changed since I last saw you. But then again, you’re one wife less aren’t you?” Asha winced and growled softly at Euron’s words.  
“I’m warning you brother…” Victarion growled.  
“Go on then!” Euron urged.  
“Enough! The both of you! Or the only place you’ll be going is the docks, where, if you are lucky, I’ll sacrifice you both to the Drowned God and you can proceed with your quarrels beneath the waves and away from the ears of men!” Aeron piped up. Asha smirked at the silence that followed. “If you ask me, our answer lies with our God. We should go to the beach. The waves will give us our answer…”  
“We haven’t got time for sunbathing right now brother.” Euron said dryly. Asha heard Tris’ voice at the far end of the room and snatched her moment of opportunity. She ran towards the driveway; heart pounding in time with the axe that bounced on her back. Almost there…almost…  
“And where do you think you’re going young lady?” Victarion called out behind her. Shit. She took one last look towards freedom before turning around. She would be able to make it before they could catch her, but she’d only end up in deeper shit when she got home. “Come here!” He ordered. Head high, refusing to show her irritation, she walked over to the window, staying just far enough away so that they couldn’t grab her.  
“I thought I’d ordered you to stay in your room?” Euron said, leaning casually against the kitchen side and slicing off a bit of an apple.  
“A kraken doesn’t take orders nuncle.” She replied starkly. Victarion smiled, Euron watched her intently with his one visible eye, Aeron’s face remained as cold as the sea. “And where was the little kraken running off to?” Euron’s voice was aggravatingly patronising.  
“Inland.” She said bluntly.  
“The kraken’s place is in the sea.”  
“Last time I looked, my room was as dry as sand.” She spat back.  
“There’s always the bath tub.” Euron smiled. Asha glared at him. Her uncle knew how to grind her gears. “Tell us Asha, where were you going?” Victarion asked sternly.  
“Where do you think? I’m going to find my little brother, and I’m going to bring him home.” She repeated for the hundredth time.  
“No. You’re going to find a duster and clean your room.” Euron argued back.  
“But…”  
“I’m your legal guardian, I expect you to do as I ask. Your father’s dead and so is your brother.” Euron’s temper flared. Asha looked desperately to her other uncles. They didn’t meet her gaze. Her temper flared too. “My brother is not dead. That bastard’s got him. I’m going to get him back, or die trying. You won’t stop me nuncle.” And before allowing him time to reply, she ran. Fuck them. The whole bloody lot. So what if she was in shit when she got home? At least this time her brother would stand beside her.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than the other chapters but I was having to much fun with the Greyjoy's! I have one last POV to introduce and then the fun can begin!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Reek get ready to leave. Meanwhile a strong force readies itself at the Wall.

_“Come Reek.” Ramsay ordered. Reek followed, still on his hands and knees. The air felt so fresh outside of his room that it almost overwhelmed him. The stairs outside of the room were tricky; he had not been given permission to stand, so he crawled up them on stiff limbs. He had rarely taken more than a few steps since Ramsay had left him down there. He didn’t know how many days it had been._   
_By the time they reached the top of the stairs, his heart was pounding and every part of him ached. “You may stand up now Reek.” Ramsay’s permission came as more of an order. He didn’t hesitate to obey, not even when his knees made a sickening crack. Master grinned when Reek whimpered. “Good boy.” Ramsay led the way towards a glass door. Light flooded through it. Reek’s legs shook and he had to hold onto the wall to hold himself up. The light from the door burned his eyes, making them water. He continued to follow his Master, and almost walked straight into him when he stopped abruptly. Ramsay opened the glass door and stepped inside. Reek very rarely set foot in the house. Mr Bolton was very strict, not allowing the stinking pet to eat or sleep in the house. So Reek would be confined to his room. Except for when Mr Bolton went on his business trips. Then Reek would be dragged from his bed into Ramsay’s room, where Ramsay and his friends would be waiting…_   
_“You were down there for far too long.” He heard Roose say. Reek shivered. The voice was as cold as ice and cut through him, sharper than Ramsay’s flaying knife. “I’m sorry father. We were just…”_   
_“I don’t want to know what you were just doing.” Roose cut in. Ramsay gestured for Reek to enter. “You’d best be going. Are you really going to take that thing with you?”_   
_“Come on dad, it’s our anniversary!” Ramsay laughed._   
_“Do not lose focus tonight Ramsay.” Roose warned._   
_“Why? Are you afraid of losing another son?” Ramsay snapped. The silence that followed was deafening. “Just go.” Roose ordered quietly. Ramsay’s face darkened and Reek began to tremble. “Come on Reek. Let’s go.”_

_***_

The bitterly cold wind felt strong enough to be able to pick him up and hurl him wherever it wished. Fortunately, it didn’t feel like hurling Davos anywhere this evening and so he hurried down the elevator. He liked it on the Wall; the vast stone structure that cut off the side of the city that led to the rest of the world. The way the wind blew so strongly with nothing to stop it reminded him of what it used to feel like on the deck of his ship. If he closed his eyes, he swore he could smell the salty sea air and feel the deck sway beneath him.  
As the elevator descended, his phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket with his good hand and checked the screen. “Alright! Alright! I’m on my way!” He muttered as Melisandre’s name flashed back at him. He declined the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He looked out of the small double glazed window that helped to keep the cold out. The city was growing darker and more formidable as night approached. Looking down, he saw black shapes mingling with whites and greys as the men and women gathered, ready to begin. Davos grabbed the pouch hanging around his neck that held his fingers, feeling better for holding them. They were his luck and tonight, he’d need all the luck he could get.

Stannis and Melisandre were waiting for him in the King’s tower-block. It wasn’t really a tower-block on the inside. Inside it was, by Davos’ standards, luxurious, if not a little outdated. Stannis sat in a chair that faced the window, watching the city ready itself for the long night ahead. The Red Woman stood beside the radiator. “Shouldn’t you be out burning houses by now?” Davos asked her in a respectful tone. She smiled. “She’s coming with us.” Stannis replied. Davos knew better than to argue. “Are the troops ready?” Stannis asked, remaining in his seat by the window.  
“They await your command, sir.” Davos informed.  
“Very good.” Stannis looked as though he were about to stand. Now was his last chance. “Stannis, I beg you not to do this. Surely there would be a lot less blood shed if we were to broach a peaceful agreement. We could do it on another night, then at least emergency services could intervene…”  
“It must happen tonight. It is in the flames.” Melisandre cut in.  
“Your magic won’t stop anyone on this night.” Davos shot back. Stannis stood up. Davos was sure he could hear those teeth grinding. “Tell me Davos, what night of the year is it?” Stannis asked.  
“The night of the Purge, sir.” Davos resigned himself to hearing the same argument he had been hearing all week.  
“Exactly. A night to purge this city of its traitors. The mayordom of Westeros is mine, by right.” Stannis declared.  
“It must happen tonight, the Lord of Light demands it. And our mayor is the chosen one. He shall be the one to make the sun rise, and end this dark night.” Melisandre added. Davos sighed in frustration but pursed his lips, knowing that further argument would be futile. “Go to your men, Davos. Prepare them for battle.” Stannis ordered. Davos nodded, turned, and left the room.

He could hear the men getting anxious, raring to go. Davos expected to hear the siren at any moment. His head turned at raised voices. “He’s mine! You touch him, and I’ll kill you!” The ginger Wildling growled to the Thenn that towered over her. They both looked ready to kill one another. Davos knew it was time for him to intervene. “Is there a problem here Ygritte?” He asked, striding towards them.  
“No problem here. Just she wants to avenge her crow lover.” The Thenn replied. Laughter rippled through the ranks. Ygritte’s eyes flamed as red as her hair. “I’m not avenging him. He was _mine_ to kill. He betrayed me. That bastard took my vengeance from me!” The red head declared. The laughter died down. “Ramsay Snow is mine.” She growled. “Anyone else tries to kill him, I’ll have an arrow for them!” Before Davos could order them to get back into formation, the automated voice rang out over the city.

_“This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge. At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal. All emergency services will be suspended. Your government thanks you for your participation.”_

Cheers rose up from the ranks as the siren sounded. The Wildlings beat on their shields. All grew silent when Stannis appeared from the King’s tower-block. All eyes turned to him. “You all know what tonight is! Each year, on this night, havoc and mayhem are brought to the streets. But last year, unspeakable crimes were committed. Crimes I will not allow in my city. Tonight is the night of the Purge, and tonight is the night we purge this city of traitors, savages and dishonourable men. Men of the Night’s Watch, will you stand with me?” A cheer rose up in reply, confirming their loyalty to the true Mayor of Westeros.  
“Freefolk, will you stand with me?” The Wildings whooped and yelled, banging their weapons on their shields in reply.  
“Very well. Open the gates!” And so the night began.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't add another POV, but nanjcsy gave me an idea so I hope it works!


	6. Asha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asha meets up with her men and they head North. A detour leads them into some trouble.

“You’re late!” Qarl called out as he spotted her running across the green. It wasn’t really a green, it was far too grey for its description. The ground around them was far too rocky to be described as green. “I’m here aren’t I? Though I’m going to be in the shit when I get home.” She admitted.  
“Why?” Rook, another of her men asked.  
“My uncles.” Was all she needed to say.  
“I thought Tris was supposed to be helping you to escape.” Qarl pointed out with disdain in his voice.  
“For fuck sake! If you don’t let it go, you’ll be meeting the Drowned God sooner than you thought.” She joked.  
“Ha! You won’t survive the night without me!” He jested in reply, knowing it wasn’t true.  
“Go fuck yourself!” She spat.  
“I’d sooner fuck y…”  
“Not now.” She cut in. There wasn’t enough time. “Come on, let’s move.” She ordered.  
“Where to?” Someone asked. They were rapidly losing light, but it sounded like Rolfe’s voice. “The North side. We’ll try the Dreadfort. There is no reason for that bastard to be dragging my brother through the streets tonight. As far as he knows, no one knows Theon is there.” She said, grabbing her helmet and climbing onto her bike.  
“Are we stopping at all? To…you know…loot?” Another asked. Asha rolled her eyes. She was impatient to get there, but she knew they would work better once they had gained something for themselves. They held no love for her brother. “Fine. We’ll stop somewhere on the way and you will have fifteen minutes to grab whatever you can carry.” She started up her bike as cheers rose up behind her and the others kicked their bikes into gear.  
“I propose Deepwood Motte. I’ve heard the owner has a pretty stash of cash hidden away upstairs.” She heard Lorren say.  
“Do you mean cash, or wife?” Cromm laughed.  
“Both!” Lorren bellowed. Asha smiled but made no jest. Her mind was elsewhere as she sped off into the night. She didn’t look back. She knew they were behind her.

Deepwood Motte wasn’t too shabby and there were an unexpected amount of riches to be found inside. It had been nicknamed Motte because of the uneven ground it had been built on. Indeed, you could feel the unevenness inside the house. In some places, it made Asha feel as though she were drunk and on her Black Wind. But she stayed where she was all the same. If she went to wait outside, she knew she’d never get her men out. So she walked around as they looted. Luckily there were no women to be found, otherwise they would not leave until each man had had their turn.  
Asha went over to the window and looked out over the city. To the North, she could see great fires burning. Screams bounced across the buildings. She wondered which screams were being caused by Ramsay. She had been observing him for a while now; learning about his character for herself. His father had been given many promotions throughout the year. The strange thing was that all of the promotions had come from the Lannisters. Asha recalled that before last year’s Purge, Roose Bolton had been working for the Starks. And all the Starks were dead. What’s more, the Bolton’s were renowned for being the best killers.  
“What are you thinking about?” Qarl sneaked up behind her.  
“My brother.” She answered.  
“We’ll find him.” He replied.  
“I know.” She said, turning away from him. “Men! Time’s up!” She called. They all gathered around and followed her down the stairs. The moment they reached the second floor, Asha sensed something was wrong. “Stop!” She ordered in a hushed voice. She stepped forward and spotted a set of footprints that had come upstairs. They had taken the same path, but theirs had dried up already. These prints were fresh. “Whose are they?” She heard Qarl ask. No one replied. “None of us has been down or come up these stairs since we came up them together.” She whispered, her eyes following the footprints. They led around a corner at the far end of the room. Pulling her axe from the straps on her back, Asha padded over to the corner, not making a sound. When Qarl attempted to follow behind, she ordered him to stay where he was. “You are too loud and too clumsy.” She whispered with a smile. Qarl grinned back, knowing she did not need his help. Asha readied her axe. “Three…two…one…” She swung it around the corner. Strike first, then check.  
“FUCK!” Tris screamed. He came staggering out from the dark corner, grasping his arm. “Tris!” Asha cried, irritated.  
“Shit!” He spat, pulling his hand away from his arm and revealing a deep gash. “Didn’t you think of checking to see who was there before swinging your axe around?” He gasped.  
“Rather you than me!” She replied, sliding her axe back onto her back.  
“Well that’s one way of looking at it!” He replied, tearing off a strip of his shirt to tie around the wound.  
“What are you doing here Tris?” Qarl asked, coming forward.  
“Thought you might want a hand.” Tris replied.  
“I thought you were going to stay at home, you know, cleaning.” Qarl smiled and the men laughed.  
“Well that job was meant for Asha. She got out of it, why couldn’t I?”  
“Because…”  
“That’s enough, both of you. We have a job to do tonight. I don’t care who is here but if anyone gets in my way or does do anything stupid, I will rip your lungs from your bodies, no matter how good you are in bed.” She spat. The men fell silent. “Right, let’s go.” She said, turning around.  
“Um, Asha?” She heard Rogon say.  
“What is it?” She asked, heading over to where he stood by the window. He didn’t need to reply. In the road outside, a large group of people, perhaps more than fifty, had gathered, all armed to the teeth. Asha saw no evidence of who they were working for. They all dressed differently; some in thick clothes, some in uniform, others were dressed all in black. “The Nights Watch.” She muttered. What were they doing here? “Asha, we are trapped. They are at the doors. Some have flaming torches. It looks as though they are going to set fire to the building.” Rogon informed.  
“Well then, there’s only one thing for it. Lads, ready your axes.” As they roared their approval at the thought of a fight against an overwhelming enemy, Asha led the way down the stairs.  


	7. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei gets her first taste of blood and makes a new acquaintance.

The streets had become surprisingly quiet since commencement, so Cersei had given up trying to be quiet. She had called Gregor and ordered him to wait for her at Casterly Bank with the car and was taking the backstreet route to meet him. She had hoped she would come across someone, anyone. Not that she needed any practise. She had no doubt she could shoot just as well as Jaime, if not better considering he was a cripple. Even so, there was no harm in practise.  
To her delight, she could hear footsteps approaching down a side alley. Whoever it was, they were moving fast. She crept over to the gap between buildings that they would pass through. She held her breath and readied the gun as the footsteps approached. When the time was right, she swung the gun out; rejoicing as she felt it hit the target. The boy cried out and fell to the ground, gasping as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Cersei leapt out from behind the wall and aimed the gun at him. Her finger froze on the trigger. The boy was little more than a child, perhaps thirteen or so, with deep green eyes and blond hair. On closer inspection, the eyes weren’t truly green, they were blue truth be told, but she stopped all the same. He looked a bit like Joffrey, not as handsome, but the similarities were there. “No! Please! Don’t shoot me!” He cried, tears spilling down his cheeks. Cersei lowered her gun.  
It wasn’t until she heard a boot scrape the cobbles when she knew she’d been taken for a fool.  
“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing out here tonight?” The man growled in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her, forcing her arms against her sides. Twisting her wrist until she was forced to let go of Jaime’s gun, he pulled her back. Cersei would not struggle. She would not allow him to frighten her. Her late husband had always enjoyed the struggling. She had always enjoyed not giving him the satisfaction. “I’ll teach you why a woman like you shouldn’t be out here.” He pushed her against the wall, moving his hands down to the front of her jacket. She glimpsed the young boy watching her, smiling. She growled. The man moved his face in and licked at her cheek and she took her chance; moving her head back, she thrust it forward, ignoring the pain she felt as their heads made contact. The man staggered backwards, cursing under his breath. She brought up her booted foot into his groin. “I am no woman.” She growled. “I am a lioness!” She pounced on top of him, and pulled out her dagger. There was something pleasant about feeling his blood spray over her face. She remained on top of him until he ceased to struggle beneath her. She gasped, drinking in the night air. Then she recalled the boy. Her head snapped around, eyes narrowing when she spotted him. He stared back; eyes wide with fear. As beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, he leapt up and tried to run.   
Cersei picked up Jaime’s gun, but before she could put her finger on the trigger, a gunshot rang out. She frowned as she saw the boy fall. Turning, she saw a figure heading towards her. By the way her hips moved, she could tell it was a woman. Cersei didn’t lower her gun, she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. The woman stopped. “Forgive me for stealing your prey. They’d tried the same trick on me a moment ago, so I followed them here.” She said in a thick Myrish accent. Cersei thought she recognised the voice, but she couldn’t recall where. “Who are you?” She asked, still refusing to lower her weapon.  
“I am Taena Merryweather.” The woman replied. Cersei remembered now; she had seen Taena at several tedious social gatherings. Perhaps they’d been introduced, but Cersei couldn’t remember. She’d been introduced to many people. All she did know of this woman was that she was married to Orton Merryweather, a man she had sat at councils with.   
That did not mean the wife could be trusted.  
“You are looking for your son’s killer, I suppose?” Taena said,     seemingly unperturbed by having a gun pointed at her.  
“Perhaps. But what is that to you?” Cersei’s trigger-finger began to itch.  
“I can help you. I have participated on night’s like this before and I know the boys you a searching for.”  
“How?” Cersei’s eyes narrowed. The woman was shapely, with fine curves. She remembered at one dinner party the woman had attracted a lot of male attention. Too much for Cersei’s liking. “They amuse me from time to time.” Cersei thought she saw Taena smile in the darkness. “You have no reason to doubt my loyalty, Cersei of house Lannister. I will help you.”  
“Why?” Cersei’s finger flinched.  
“I myself have a son, Russell. If any harm came to him, I too would hunt down and slaughter the man that did it.” Taena replied, still smiling.  
Cersei lowered her weapon.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully she'll become more Cersei-like as the night goes on! Just trying to get to grips with her at the moment.


	8. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya continues her quest for blood, but then she becomes thirsty for water instead.

She drank in the scent of blood. That was her favourite part; the fresh kill. It reminded her of her wolf dreams. She’d tasted the blood once, but it never tasted as good as it did in the dreams so she’d spat it out. Arya looked down at the man beneath her; his clothes were red and his lion mask had been cast aside. She’d wanted to see his face. She’d got his name too. Polliver. The blood still spewed from the hole in his throat. He released a gurgle as a final breath. Arya moved on.  
He hadn’t been on her list, but he was a Lannister man. She would put as many of them on her list as she could.   
She slipped Needle back into its sheath. Somewhere in the city, a girl scream. She smiled. What kind of girl that screamed was out on a night like this? The sound reminded her of Sansa. Her sister had screamed at anything; blood, a spider, a worm Arya had sneaked into her food. She couldn’t recall the last time her sister had screamed. All the scream-worthy moments had jumbled together after a while. One memory that did stick in her mind though, was when they’d been in Kings Landing Park. She had been playing with Mycah, practising her sword fighting no doubt, when Sansa had found her. Joffrey had been there too.  
Arya spat.  
Joffrey had been there, and he’d attacked Mycah. So Arya had hit him back. Then Nymeria...Nymeria…  
That’s when Sansa had started screaming.  
And Mycah had gone missing. His body had washed up on the riverbank a few days later.    
Arya grasped Needle. The practise she had done with Mycah would not be in vain. But Joffrey was dead. She had been robbed of her vengeance. That was another thing she would make Ramsay Bolton pay for. Each day, she made sure she knew three new things. It was quite simple when working at the harbour. There were always tourists with different stories to tell. And one of the more recent things she had learnt of was that the Bastard of Bolton had killed Joffrey Baratheon.  
Arya spat again.  
She was thirsty. She had left the river behind ages ago. Looking around, she spotted a closed up bar. Arya glanced around and listened to check if anyone was following her or could follow her into the bar. The streets around her were silent. Somewhere far off she could hear a siren. No doubt someone had stolen a City Watch car. Arya wished she could drive; at least then she could steal a car and get around quicker. Perhaps she would learn one day.  
Silent as a shadow, she moved around the side of the bar until she found a door that hadn’t been boarded up. From her pocket, she pulled out her pen knife and began to work the latch. “Come on.” She muttered. She froze when she heard footsteps coming down a nearby alleyway. _Calm as still water_ she thought. _Fear cuts deeper than swords_. Even so, she held her breath until the figure passed the gap between buildings where the shadows hid her. Arya’s breath hissed out in relief and she returned to working the latch. She smiled when the door sprung open and the darkness welcomed her in. She didn’t need a light. She had learnt a long time ago that a water dancer sees without looking. The room was silent around her. There wasn’t so much as a shuffle from the residents upstairs. On the night of the Purge, it was better to allow participants to pass freely and without disturbance. Don’t protect your property. Just protect yourself.  
Arya moved through the tables and chairs without bumping into anything and made her way behind the bar. As tempting as it was to try some wine or ale, Arya went straight to the fridge and found some water. Alcohol dulled the senses. She grabbed a bottle of water and made her way back through the tables and chairs; she couldn’t afford to waste time. When she got to the door however, voices bounced off the walls, alarmingly close. She knew they were heading her way. She wouldn’t have enough time to get out of the alleyway in time. They would catch her. _Calm as still water_. Arya slipped back into the darkness and went behind the bar, cramming herself into a small gap between the barrels and pumps. She wrapped her fingers around Needle, comforted by its presence and by having it ready to pull out if someone found her. “In we go then lads!” A rough voice called out. Arya heard them all enter. “Aye! Free drinks all around!” Another bellowed.  
“Good! I need one. Those Lannisters put up quite a fight!” Another laughed.  
“Yeah, until I pumped them full of arrows!” Replied another.  
“Right! Defeated them by yourself did you Anguy?”  
“Could have done if I wanted to, but you got in the way Bull!” The one called Anguy replied.  
“My bad, I’ll leave you to it next time shall I?” The Bull laughed. Arya frowned. She recognised the laugh. “That’s enough, the pair of you. You both did well. Go get us some drinks Bull!” A gruff voice ordered. Arya tensed as she heard the one they called Bull leap over the bar, his worn leather boots landing right beside her. “Get us some gin would you!” A man called out.  
“Wait!” The Bull replied. Arya froze, holding her breath. “I’m not letting you have no gin! I’m not carrying you round again!” The Bull bellowed. The others laughed with him and Arya breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the side of the bar.   
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her jacket sleeve. “Gotcha!” He growled. Arya writhed in his grip, but it was in vain. He was as strong as…well…a bull. Twisting, she found his flesh and bit down hard. He cried out and she felt his grip loosen momentarily. Taking her chance, Arya squirmed away. Unsheathing needle, she leapt over the bar and made a run for it. “Oi! Get back here you!” The Bull cried. She heard him leap over the bar after her. In two quick strides, he was close enough to grab her. Arya felt his weight knock into her and they both crashed to the floor. Arya began to scramble away, but he was too heavy for her. “Let me go! Let me go or I swear I’ll kill you! I will!” She shrieked. The Bull flipped her over like she were one of Sansa’s dolls and pinned down her wrists as Arya continued to struggle. “Arya?” He gasped. Arya looked up into a set of bright blue eyes.


	9. Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis' army continues its assault on the city. But Stannis is struggling to find what he needs. Then Davos receives some bad news.

Davos got as far away from the burning building as he could. Inside the structure, screams could still be heard. The smoke cleared momentarily and he glimpsed the Red Woman staring up into the flames. He didn’t doubt that she was smiling. Davos looked away, feeling sick at the sight of her. If the Gods were meant to have created all living things, then how would it please them to take life away? Her God was not the same to his Gods though. Her God seemed to like death.  
When Davos had first met her, he had though her mad. Some sort of psychotic pyromaniac who always prattled on about light and darkness and her wretched God. He wouldn’t have believed her if it hadn’t been for the unquestionable accuracy at predicting the future, or how she had somehow been able to shape it.  
He could still hear the leeches hiss.  
“Watch it!” Davos cried as he almost bumped into a hooded figure.   
“Sorry sir.” The figure replied. They began to hurry away, but not before Davos had recognised the voice. “Gilly! Oi! Get back here!” He called out, not ungently. The figure stopped, turned around and walked back to him, head hanging low. “Now what are you doing out here? I thought I told you to stay in the house?”  
“I know Mr Davos. But, you know I can’t read the time right and by the time I got there it had been closed up! I couldn’t get in!” The girl gasped timidly. Davos wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. Gilly had her reasons to be out tonight, but she had so much to live for. “The baby, is he…”  
“Val was babysitting him today while I went looking for a job. He’s safely with her.” Gilly assured him.  
“Good.” He knew he should send her back, but the streets weren’t safe. Stannis was hardly likely to spare men to take her back. “Look, Gilly, go to the back of the ranks and help Ygritte tend to the prisoners.” He ordered.  
“Prisoners?” Gilly gasped.  
“Yes, just some Ironborn dumb enough to try and fight us.” Davos sighed, recalling the piteous gang that had exploded out of Deepwood Motte.  
“Iron…born? What is iron born?” She asked.  
“I’ve not got time for this now Gilly, just go and find Ygritte. I need to speak with Stannis.” Davos left her there, fearing that if he stayed she would start asking more questions. He didn’t look back to check if she’d gone either. Soon enough, it became impossible for him to see her at all. The ranks had thickened as he neared Stannis. It made him smile a grim smile to see Wildlings and men of the Nightswatch standing side by side.   
Stannis stood on his own.  
He had a clear view of the burning building from the steps he was standing on. He didn’t seem to notice when Davos appeared next to him. “Stannis, we don’t have time for this. An hour’s gone already. We haven’t got time to stand around watching fires burn. You promised the men, and women, a fight and they want one.” Davos informed. He could hear Stannis’ teeth grinding. “The Bolton’s aren’t in the North side. Once I’d killed them, I was certain the North would fall. My scouts can’t find them.” Stannis admitted, continuing to watch the flames. Did he hope to see the future in them too? “Then we can only assume that the Bolton’s have fled to the South side. Let them run. We should keep pressing South until there is nowhere for them to go, except maybe Essos. Do you think they sun burn easily?” Davos’ joke was lost on Stannis, of course.   
“The Northmen will not follow me until I avenge their dead.” Stannis muttered.  
“The people you seek to kill are South, Stannis.” Davos insisted.  
“He is right, my lord.” Came a chilling voice that made Davos flinch. “The monsters you seek have fled South. I saw it in the flames.” Melisandre informed. Stannis ground his teeth again. “Very well. Tell the troops we are heading South.” Stannis ordered. Davos sighed, exasperated. Before he could leave, however, a young man in black ran up to them. “Mr Seaworth, sir!” He cried, obviously out of breath.  
“What is it boy?” He asked.  
“The prisoner…she…she’s escaped!”


	10. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's night gets off to a rough start when she wonders into a lions den. Luckily, a rose bush is growing nearby.

She reloaded the crossbow, so that she’d be ready for the next one. Stepping over the dead man, she continued along the alleyway, recalling how the blood had swallowed up the Frey badge that had been emblazoned on his chest. She didn’t smile. She refused to enjoy the killing. _“Killing is the sweetest thing there is”_ She heard the Hound say. She wouldn’t believe it. It was the vengeance she enjoyed, not the taking of a life.   
Sansa pushed the man to the back of her mind. He wouldn’t be the last and he hadn’t been the first. She couldn’t allow herself to get distracted. Sansa treaded lightly, making as little sound as possible, but the cold stone buildings made her footsteps echo. Every time she heard it, she fretted that someone was following her, but when she checked, there was no one there. She had come across a few people, but none of them had gotten closer than ten feet before she’d pumped them full of arrows. Some had tried to frighten her before she’d killed them. Had they spent over a year with the Lannisters, and another with Littlefinger, they would’ve known better. There had been one that had frightened her though. He’d worn a lion mask, but beneath it she’d glimpsed golden curls. He’d probably been of Lannister blood, but for a moment she’d thought it had been Joffrey, before she’d remembered he was dead.   
Sansa hurried through the alleyways, pausing only to look for signs to see where she was heading. She prayed it was north. The air did feel colder, but it did not yet feel like home. What even was home? She was frightened that she wouldn’t be able to remember. She could remember laughter, and faintly recalled happiness. She could taste the lemon cakes her mother used to bake. She could feel Jeyne whisper in her ear, her breath stirring strands of hair.  
It was just the breeze. Jeyne was most likely dead along with everyone else. That thought made her shiver. Suddenly, the echo of her footsteps seemed to grow louder, as though the dead walked with her. There were so many more footsteps then there had been before. It was understandable, so many she’d loved had died. If they were walking with her, the sound should be deafening.   
Then someone walked over her own grave.  
The footsteps weren’t in her mind; they were real. And they were close. Sansa began to walk faster. Faster. Faster. Then a story came to mind; one she had heard years ago. She wasn’t meant to hear it. It was not meant for a wolfs ears. _In the Kingswood there lived a mother and her cub.  
_ She sped up a little more.  
 _She loved him very much. But there were other things that lived in the woods, evil things.  
_ Faster. Faster!  
 _Like stags and wolves. He could hear them howling in the night. The little cub was frightened. His mother said “You are a lion my son, you mustn’t be afraid. For one day all the beasts will bow to you. You will be King. All the stags will bow, all the wolves will bow. The bears of the north, and the foxes in the south. All the birds in the sky and the beasts in the sea. They will all come to you little lion, to rest a crown upon your head.”_  
“Well, well, well. Look what we have here!” Cersei Lannister laughed and stepped out in front of her, blocking her path.   
“A little Shewolf. Where’s your pack, bitch?” Came another voice from behind her. Sansa turned to see another woman standing behind her. She recognised her but could not remember who she was. “Come now Taena, there’s no need to be cruel!” Cersei laughed wickedly. Sansa tried her best to repress the shudder that laugh caused. “What is it wolf-bitch? I don’t recall us lions taking your tongue.” Cersei laughed again, and her friend laughed with her.  
“The lions didn’t take my tongue, they just taught me to guard it. You taught me a great deal, Cersei. Like never to trust a pretty face.” Sansa growled back. She was almost shocked by it. This woman she had once respected, hated, but respected. Cersei didn’t fail to notice her tone either. “How dare you speak to me like that you ungrateful little bitch! Who was it that took you in after your father died? It was me! I took care of you. I…”  
“You took care of me? You allowed your son to beat me, to humiliate me! You call that taking care of someone? No wonder that blond bastard of yours was so cruel!” Sansa repressed the urge to place her hand over her mouth and apologise.   
“You foul little cunt! Death shall be too good for you!” Cersei unsheathed her dagger and lunged towards Sansa, who darted out of the way. Cersei fell ungracefully to the ground, but soon stood up again, readying herself for another attack. Before the next lunge came however, a cry of pain rang out behind them. Cersei was distracted for a moment. For a second, Sansa glimpsed fear in Cersei’s eyes. Curious, Sansa glanced over her shoulder. Cersei’s friend, Taena, was on the ground, clasping her leg and yowling in pain. “Taena!” Cersei cried. The attackers soon appeared; appearing to melt out of the walls. They readied their guns, aiming them at Cersei. Sansa stepped back against the wall; praying they wouldn’t notice her. Before the attackers could open fire, Cersei began to run towards the road that the alleyway led to. “Leave her! She is not the one we’re after.” The command came from a woman. Sansa recognised the voice, but her face was in shadow. The one beside her lowered his gun. Sansa remained in the shadows, but her cover was blown when one of them switched on a torch. “Sansa?” The woman gasped. Sansa looked over at them. It was a small group, but Sansa recognised the leaders as soon as the lights reached their faces. “Margaery!” Sansa stepped out of the shadows. Margaery smiled that smile that warmed wherever she was and walked over to Sansa, hugging her tightly. “My dear, where on earth have you been? What are you doing out here tonight of all nights?” Sansa dodged the questions as best she could. “I could ask you the same thing!” She laughed. Margaery’s smile never faltered. “Loras and I are after someone.” She confessed, glancing over her shoulder at her pretty brown haired brother.  
“Who?” Sansa asked. Before Margaery could answer, the siren of a city watch car rang out, followed by a woman’s scream and the squealing of tires. After that, the streets fell silent once more. “Cersei!” Sansa gasped.


	11. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps death by car would've been kinder. Unfortunately for Cersei, the Gods do love their tricks.

The room was pitch black, so much so that when she opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she had opened them at all. She could still hear though. Sounds echoed off of the walls. Incoherent mutterings, a chuckle, a whisper. Somebody moved. “I demand to know where I am! Who are you? I warn you, I am Tywin Lannister’s daughter! I take it you know that Lannister’s pay their debts!” She called out.  
“Oh yes, we know!” A thousand echoes answered. Cersei shuddered at the cold voice, looking around desperately. She was on the floor, a floor of stone. It chafed against her bare skin. She was horrified to realise that she was naked. She could feel rope around her wrists and ankles, binding her down. When she tried to pull with her right arm, a pain shot through it and for a moment, all she saw was white. She did not scream. Lion’s do not scream. “I command you to release me immediately! I am the mother of the mayor!” She called into the darkness.  
“We know who you are. The question is, who are we?” Came a single, spine scraping voice.   
“How am I supposed to know if you hide in the shadows? Show yourselves cowards!” She spat. The darkness sighed. “Very well.” The voice said. There was a scratching sound and suddenly there was light; a small, meek, flickering thing. She squinted. It made her head pound. She could feel something hot and sticky on the back of her head. She hoped that it was blood.   
The match moved, darting about. She could hear chuckling, as though the flame was laughing at her. “Show yourself.” She growled. The light moved upwards. Half the face remained in shadow, but the other half was all she needed to see. That smile…those ghost grey eyes…  
“Remember me, Mrs Baratheon?” Ramsay Bolton chuckled. Cersei gritted her teeth and pulled at the ropes again; longing to launch herself at him and tear out those terrible eyes. She whimpered as the pain in her arm made her head spin. Great. She was no better off than Jaime. Unbidden, a tear slid down her cheek. “Aw, don’t cry! We’re going to have fun!” Ramsay mocked. Cersei forgot the pain. She could almost feel her green eyes darken with anger. “Release me, you little bastar…” Before she could get the whole word out though, a boy melted out of the shadows and brought his foot down hard on her broken arm. This time, she did scream. “Be careful what you say Mrs Baratheon. We wouldn’t want you to go the same way as your son!” Ramsay laughed, but she could sense the anger that lay beneath it.  
“My son…Joffrey?” She gasped, recalling what she had set out to do.  
“Yes, Joffrey. I think I might leave the other one alone. But if our mayor shakes his rattle too loudly…” Ramsay pulled out a small knife from his belt, holding it up to the match so it glimmered. Cersei shivered. “Please, leave my Tommen alone.” She muttered.   
“Don’t worry. It’s not him that I want.” Ramsay smirked, though his voice had turned serious.  
“What do you want? If you want gold, you can have it. But you’ll have to unbind me to get it.” _A Lannister always pays her debts, he knows that._   
“It is not gold I want.” Ramsay grinned.  
“Then what do you want?” Cersei growled, growing impatient.  
“I want to do this.” With a sudden speed, Ramsay pounced on her, slashed his small knife against her cheek, and leapt off again; all in one swift motion. Cersei cried out. The skin of her cheek felt strange; dangling there on a thin strip. The pain was worse than the sensation though. A burning itch blazed across her cheek. Had she been able to reach them, Cersei would have chewed through the ropes with her teeth, just so she could scratch her cheek and stop the itching.  
Her fingers twitched.  
“You really do look terrible in this light Mrs Baratheon. Perhaps some more light will do you better justice. Lads!” The last thing she saw before the lights flickered on was Ramsay’s face; half lit and grinning with excitement. She understood once she could see the room. _I will not cringe for them_. But it was so hard not to.  
The room was littered with weaponry and, worse still, equipment ready to use for torturing. Ramsay moved away from her, waltzing about the room with a cheery swagger, brushing his fingertips over a rack, an axe, a sword, guns, knives, crossbows, anything in an attempt to scare her. Cersei watched him, but refused to look away or show fear when he met her gaze. Ramsay seemed to almost understand. He smiled a strange, secret smile. “I see you are every inch the lioness, despite your name being Baratheon.” He chuckled softly. “So, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way is I use whatever weapon I choose. The hard way,” He shrugged, smiling, “same thing, except my men will rape you first.” She noticed the others then. They all wore Ramsay’s smile. They were perhaps a little older than Joffrey had been, but not much. “You will never break me.” She growled. She was a Lannister. A lioness. Ramsay would have to untie her when moving her to a piece of equipment, then she could make a run for it. _See father, I’m not stupid_. “I had another person who thought like that once. Very proud. Very arrogant. He wasn’t a lion though, just a kraken thrown out of the sea.” Ramsay smiled his smile again.  
“I don’t care what you did to Theon Greyjoy. I know you killed him, but the boy was worthless any way.” She wasn’t sure why he was talking about the Greyjoy boy. What did he matter? He was long dead and hated by everyone. Ramsay cocked his head to one side. “Theon Greyjoy is dead, yes. But there is someone I want you to meet. Come here Reek.” Cersei lifted her head, confused. The door opened. A head peeked around; eyes only seeing Ramsay. “Come here pet.” Ramsay called again, as though it were a dog not a…not a…  
She couldn’t say person.  
The creature crawled out on his hands and knees. Despite the sight of the naked woman bound to the floor, it only looked at Ramsay. Around his neck, he wore a collar. A strange collar made of…was that…hair?  
“Take a good, long look Mrs Baratheon.” Ramsay smiled, stroking the creatures matted hair. Cersei did, she was too curious not to. The creature didn’t seem to notice. Cersei gasped in realisation. He was thinner and smaller. His hair was a mess and so white and brittle. But there was no mistaking those blue eyes. She had met Theon Greyjoy before, several times. He had always tried his best to get her into bed. But he was just a boy and the lion does not lay with a kraken. “Theon Greyjoy?” She breathed. She was so engrossed in studying the creature, she didn’t notice the anger in Ramsay’s eyes, nor his slight nod. She didn’t even hear the man approach until it was too late. His boot came down on her already broken arm and she heard another crack as the bone broke in another place. Cersei screamed in pain. “His name. Isn’t. Theon.” Ramsay growled. “Have her lads.” Ramsay sighed, as though sick of her.   
“NO!” She cried. They didn’t hear her. Most of the boys, who were merely teenagers in truth, were already unzipping their trousers and getting their cocks out. “I’m going first!” One of them announced, as though she were a new swing set in the park.   
“No way Damon! I was the one that hit her with the car! I should go first!” Another argued. A fight ensued. Cersei tried desperately to release her ankles, but she only ended up burning herself on the rope. “Enough, boys. Skinner can go first. Without him, we wouldn’t have the bitch.” Ramsay sneered at her before sitting down on the edge of the rack. His pet placed its head in his lap. The one called Skinner turned to face her, leering. Cersei swallowed the bile in her throat as Skinner climbed on top of her. Gods, he was clumsy. Worse than Robert had been. Cersei hadn’t thought that possible.  
Skinner didn’t force himself in straight away. First, he allowed his hands to have a wander. “What? You never seen a naked woman before boy? Do you even know where to put that tiny cock of yours?” She sneered. The other boys laughed. “Filthy Lannister scum.” Skinner growled. Before he could force his way into her however, there was a knock at the door.  
The boys froze.  
“Who knows we’re here?” Damon asked, eager for his turn and not appreciating the interruption.  
“I don’t know.” Ramsay replied. Picking up a rusty axe, he headed over to the door. _“Mother have mercy. Let that be my brother.”_ Cersei thought.  
It seemed the gods were listening.


	12. Asha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asha and her companions go to the Bolton's home. They are greeted by a bad smell.

She led the way, as she always did. But that hadn’t been without dispute. The ginger wildling didn’t like being bossed about. “I’m a free woman, I don’t need no sea bitch tellin’ me what to do!” She’d announce, whenever Asha called out a command. She longed for one of her men, any of them, if it meant someone would actually agree with her or come up with a better strategy. The other wildling girl, Gilly, was too nervous to come up with a plan. In fact, she barely spoke at all. Asha didn’t even really know why she had joined them. Ygritte’s reasons she knew well enough. “He killed Jon Snow. He was mine to kill.” From the way she went on and on about killing him, it was clear she had been in love with Jon Snow. Asha knew he had been a friend of Theon’s. A pretty boy, but always so miserable. She wondered what the fiery wildling found interesting in him.  
A part of her was grateful for her companions though. Without them, she never would’ve escaped. Once they knew of who it was she was after, they were more than willing to help. Ygritte had distracted the guards whilst Gilly had taken the keys and released her.  
And so here they were, a band of three, making their way through the violence-filled streets towards the Bolton’s house. Word in Stannis’ army was that the Bolton’s were no longer in the North. But Asha wasn’t so certain. If they still had her brother, they must’ve hidden him for an entire year. That meant they had somewhere they could hide, and from the screams some say came from the Bolton residence, it was the best place to start. Asha had made the walk before, multiple times so that she was ready and knew the route well. It wasn’t long before the imposing house loomed before them. “Is that a castle?” Ygritte gasped.  
“No, it’s just a house.” Asha shrugged. Even her house was bigger than this one. “It’s huge!” Gilly exclaimed, staring up at it with her mouth gaping open in awe. Asha rolled her eyes. “Come on!” She urged, leading the way towards it. The house was shrouded in darkness, with no lights on. That made no matter. If they were cowering in their house, they wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves. She went straight to the front door, then she stopped. If she smashed the window, and they were inside, they would know they were there. “What are you waiting for?” Ygritte hissed. She didn’t even allow Asha time to answer before pushing past her, snatching Asha’s axe on the way. Flipping it in her hand, she used the butt to smash the glass door before pushing her arm through and opening it. “Subtle.” Asha muttered. Ygritte sent her an angry look. Asha snatched her axe back. “You steal my axe again and I’ll cut you to pieces with it.” She growled, and pushed past her to lead the way into the house. They stuck together; the two wildling women weren’t used to these big buildings. Apparently it was all bungalows beyond the Wall.   
They found no sign of the Bolton’s.  
“They aren’t here.” Ygritte said bluntly.  
“Yes, I can see that!” Asha snapped  
“Well then where are they?” Ygritte asked, putting her hands on her hips.  
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Asha growled.  
“You’re the one with all the big ideas!”  
“Could you please shut up!”  
“Could you please shut up!” Ygritte mocked. “We should go back, and hand you back to Stannis. We’ve got more chance of finding this bastard that way!”  
“Um… guys?” Gilly remained unheard.  
“Yeah, you do that! Of course he will burn you for releasing me in the first place. That would bring a whole new meaning to the phrase kissed by fire.” Asha retorted.  
“Guys!”  
“What?” They said in unison.  
“Where does that door lead to?” Gilly pointed to another door in a corner of the kitchen.  
“It’s probably just the…basement.” Asha’s voice trailed off. Without saying a word to the others, she hurried over to the door. It was unlocked. She threw it open. To the left were a set of stairs leading down into darkness. Asha didn’t hesitate, but pulled out her axe, ready for an attack. But if there was anything that was going to knock her out, it was the smell. The room she ended up in was pitch black, but it smelled as though something was in the process of dying in it. She fumbled for the light switch. As the lone lamp flickered unwillingly to life, Asha’s stomach turned. The room was empty, of human life anyway. She could hear rats squeaking and scratching in the walls. A large wooden rack was set up in the centre of the room; its beams stained with blood. In a far corner, a bed had been made up out of rotting straw. Human shit littered the floor and Asha did not step foot into the room, fearing that the puddles in there weren’t water. “Gods! What’s rotting down here?” Ygritte gasped, appearing behind her. Asha didn’t look at her, fearing she would notice the sadness and distress in her eyes. “My brother.” She said. Gilly retched.


	13. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya catches up with Gendry, then the night takes a sinister and unexpected turn with the entrance of an unwanted visitor.

She found herself wedged between Gendry and a boy called Anguy. “I don’t drink.” She said, when Lem offered her a pint of beer.  
“Why not girl? It will speed the night up some.” Lem promised.  
“It dulls the senses.” She sipped at her water.  
“Precisely!” Anguy bellowed.  
“Why don’t you want your senses dulled girl?” Asked Lem.  
“ I need them. I have things I need to do.” Was all Arya told them.  
“People to kill you mean.” Said the man dressed all in red. “I see right through you wolf girl.” He smiled.   
“What are you all doing out here anyway? Why are you out if you aren’t going to kill?” Arya asked, confused.  
“There are some people that weren’t meant to be out tonight girl. Innocent civilians. They wish for no part in this.”  
“Then why are they out then?” She took another sip of water.  
“Didn’t get home in time for commencement perhaps. It is our job to prevent injustice.” Thoros shrugged.  
“You want to prevent injustice, but stealing’s ok?” She pointed to the bottle in Thoros’ hand.  
“You stole too.” Anguy observed.  
“I never said I was against it.” She snapped. The room fell silent. “Gendry, it’s your turn for watch duty.” Lem announced. Gendry nodded and Arya followed him out, not wanting to be alone with strangers. “Cheers Gendry.” Said the man who sat outside once they’d stepped out into the night. He passed Gendry the torch and went inside. “Who was that?” She asked.  
“Edric.” Gendry replied. He lit a cigarette and Arya wrinkled her nose. “Sorry posho.” He joked.  
“I’m not posh!” She cried, annoyed that he’d remembered the nickname he’d given her all those years ago.   
“Sorry posho. Come to think of it, you don’t look posh. And why do you stink of fish?” It was Gendry’s turn to wrinkle his nose this time. She shoved him roughly so he hit the wall on the other side of the narrow alley way. “I’ve been working along the docks!” She said. Gendry smiled. “You should turn that torch off. Someone might see.” Arya pointed out.  
“We can’t be in the darkness.” Gendry said, in a tone that sounded rehearsed.  
“Don’t tell me you’ve become religious! Won’t your God send you to hell for smoking?” She joked.  
“No, he approves of it actually.” Gendry held up his cigarette proudly. “I’m filling myself with his fire.” He laughed.  
“The only thing you’re filling yourself with is shit!” She snorted.  
“Now, now. Language posho!” He gave her a gentle shove. An awkward silence settled over them. Neither one knew what to say. So much had happened since they’d last seen each other, but it was all so difficult to talk about. “I’m sorry about…you know…what happened to your family.” Gendry said, kicking a stone. Arya remained silent. “Is that what tonight’s about? Vengeance?”   
“Yes.” Arya’s reply was blunt and cold.  
“Killing them won’t bring your family back. Only the one true God can do that.”  
“He’s not my one true God.” Her eyes had turned to ice. Her smile gone. Gendry shivered, then frowned. “Then who is?” He asked.  
“Death.” Arya’s face remained a mask. “And nothing you preach about your fire God will change my mind, so don’t even try it.” She indicated to the cigarette in his hand. “Carry on smoking that vile thing and you’ll meet my God sooner than you intended.” As if to make a point against her, Gendry took another drag. Arya didn’t notice. She could hear footsteps. “Someone’s coming!” She whispered.  
“Get inside, quickly!” Gendry ordered. He followed her inside and they hurried over to the others. “Someone’s coming!” Gendry informed.  
“Did they see you?” Asked Thoros.  
“Not sure.”  
“They probably saw the fucking torch.” Arya mumbled. The talking ceased when they heard footsteps outside. Arya held her breath; hoping against hope that they would carry on going past.  
Damn that fucking torch.  
The door swung open.  
The figure took up most of the doorway, and he had to stoop to get inside. As the man stood tall, the light in the room hit his face. Half of it appeared to have melted; the flesh set in a strange and sickening pattern. Arya knew that face, and she hated it. It took everything in her not to pull out Needle. “Good evening Mr Clegane! Can we help you with something?” Asked Thoros casually.  
“I’m thirsty.” The Hound picked up Thoros’ bottle off of the table and drained it.  
“It’s bad manners to take another man’s drink.” Lem said, smirking.  
“Wasn’t taught manners.” The Hound spat back.  
“Didn’t your master teach you none?”   
“Leave it Lem.” Thoros ordered. “Gendry, why don’t you and your friend wait for us outside?” Gendry nodded. Arya tried to hide her face whilst trying to get a good look at the Hound. His armour was thick. Was it too thick for Needle to pierce? That was when he noticed her.  
She looked away too late.  
“What are you doing with the Stark bitch?” Sandor growled. The room fell silent. The men looked at her, observing with a different gaze now, as though she were a car they were thinking of buying. “You want to prevent injustice? Start with him.” Arya growled back. “You let Joffrey kill my sister.” She said.  
“What gave you that idea?” The Hound asked.  
“No one’s seen her for a whole year. The last thing people knew of her, Joffrey was hunting her down.” Arya refused to allow sadness to infect her voice.  
“She was still alive when I left her.” Sandor replied. He turned to Thoros. “I’ll take some food, some beer and her.” He announced.  
“I’m no bartender. Just a priest. And what makes you think she’s for sale?” Thoros replied.  
“Did I say I would pay for her?” The Hound growled.  
“She means nothing to us.” Anguy shrugged.  
“She’s valuable.” Lem argued. “Why else would he want her?”  
“What are you going to do with her priest? Take her somewhere safe? There is nowhere safe. Not for her anyway. But I know a man. He can get her somewhere safe.” The Hound lied. She knew how to see a lie. “I can’t be passed around! I make my own decisions. They’ve kept me alive so far!” Arya cried. But no one was listening. “Tell no one you saw us, and we’ll let you go.” Thoros said. The Hound gave him a nod. “Anguy, get the man a bottle of beer and some food.”  
“Chicken.” Sandor growled.  
“Get the Hound some chicken. Then take the girl and be on your way.”  
“You can’t!” Gendry cried.  
“No!” Arya yelled.  
“He’s going to take you to safety girl.” Thoros said.  
“He’s not! He’s lying!” Once again, they had stopped listening to her. The Hound had finished his bottle of beer and began on a chicken leg. He strode over to Arya. In a last, desperate attempt to escape, she turned to run. The Hound saw it coming. With a gloved hand, he cuffed her around the head, sending her crashing to the floor. She wasn’t sure whether it was the impact of hitting the ground, or the Hound’s blow. Whichever one it was, it made the world spin. She barely noticed when the Hound picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Arya! No!” Gendry’s voice sounded so far away. The next thing she knew, she was outside, the cold air kissing her face as gently as her mother used to. “Gendry!” She heard a man shout. Then she heard running footsteps. Someone grabbed her arm and shook her, trying to get her off of the Hound’s shoulder. The world span again when the Hound turned around to face who she guessed was Gendry. Arya was unable to move when she heard steel sink through flesh. Gendry released one last rasping breath. Through blurred vision, Arya saw the Bull crumple onto the cobbles. “Gendry.” She whispered, as the Hound carried her away.


	14. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get an unexpected visitor. Ramsay looks forward to finding more vengeance seekers.

Reek cowered beside the chair Master had been sitting in, holding his breath, eyes fixed on his Master as he approached the door. Ramsay did not hesitate. Raising the axe high above his head, he threw the door open. “My face is already monstrous. I do not wish for you to make it more so, bastard.” Came a confident voice. _Bastard, never bastard, Master will be angry._ Reek waited for Ramsay to begin hacking Tyrion Lannister into pieces. Instead he stepped aside and allowed the Imp and his friend in. Reek did not fail to notice that Ramsay kept his eyes down. _Master is embarrassed._ It was a scarcely seen emotion in Ramsay Bolton. Only his father had ever managed to provoke it, and after that prey had been released, the monster that was anger followed soon after. “Beloved sister! How good it is to see you in your naked glory!” The Imp grinned.  
“Tyrion, you little shit! I should have known you were behind this!” Cersei Lannister spat as her small brother made his way over to her.  
“Can someone please cover her with something? My sister’s naked body might be something my brother wants to see, but I have no wish for it. I prefer women that I am not related to.” His words left as much of a stunned silence as there would have been had he pulled out a gun and fired it. No one moved. “You boy!” He called, looking at Skinner. “Would you be so kind as to tuck that little cock of yours back into your jeans and find my sister some clothes?”  
“My cock is not small!” Skinner cried, tired of everyone saying it was so.  
“Of course not! But it will be if you do not cover my sister with something. My friend here is very handy with a knife.” Tyrion indicated to the man beside him. Skinner paled and pulled his trousers up.   
Reek noticed none of this.  
Sensing Ramsay’s irritation, he crawled over to him and began rubbing his face up and down his master’s trouser leg in hope of appeasing him. “Seven hells!” Bronn cried. Tyrion span round to look at the bastard and his pet. “So it’s true. He _is_ still alive.” The Imp muttered.  
“You’re trying to tell me that _that_ is Theon Greyjoy?” Bronn asked. Ramsay’s eyes snapped up, fixing the man with his cold gaze. “Theon Greyjoy is dead. This is my pet, Reek.” _It rhymes with weak, meek and sneak.  
_ “I wondered what that smell was.” Bronn smirked. Tyrion turned back to his sister who had been untied and was putting her clothes back on. “You are lucky we found you in time sister. I don’t doubt one of these fine fellows would gladly make you into a pet of their own.” Despite the jest, the dwarf didn’t smile.  
“I don’t need you to protect me little brother.” She growled back.  
“No, you were doing just fine by yourself, clearly.” Reek trembled beside his masters’ leg, staring up at him. He could feel his master’s growing anger from where he cowered beside him. Reek was just grateful that it was not himself that he was mad at. “You can’t take her Lannister. This is the night of the Purge. She’s _ours._ ” Ramsay snarled.  
“I can and I will. This night won’t last forever. You are lucky I managed to find my sister when I did. Had your friend with the small cock over there managed to get that thing inside her, my father would be most unhappy and even the laws wouldn’t be enough to stop my brother Jaime from mounting your ugly heads on spikes, if he was feeling kind.”  
“My cock’s not small.” Skinner muttered.  
“Master! Please let him take her! You don’t need her! You have me!” Reek blurted out in sudden panic. Heads snapped around to look down at him, shocked. “Look! The little dog’s yapping.” Bronn smiled.  
“Did you say something pet?” Ramsay’s voice was soft. Dangerously soft. “Y…yes master. I…I don’t want them to put your head on a spike!” Reek broke down into sobs at the thought of it. If master died, what would become of him? Ramsay was all he had! _What kind of weakling are you? You can’t even fend for yourself! You’re disgusting!_ Reek drowned out the voice with a loud whine. Ramsay knelt down beside his pet and cupped his face in his large hands. Reek leaned into them. “Don’t worry pet. Your head will be on the spike right next to mine.” Ramsay grinned at the relief in his pets face. _When you’ve been flayed, death is a treat._ “But my pet’s got the right of it. That bitch isn’t worth losing my head for. Take her. Plenty more stupid fuckers seeking vengeance out tonight.” Ramsay smiled as though he looked forward to meeting them.  
“I am sure. There’s probably enough for each of your charming companions.” Tyrion looked around the room and wrinkled his nose. “Come sweet sister, your brother is waiting. Father wants a word too.” Reek chanced a look a Cersei. She looked angry, but there was defeat there too. The brother she hated was the only way she could escape. The woman swept passed her small brother with as much dignity as she could muster after being tied down as naked as her name day for several hours in a room full of teenage boys.  
Theon admired her. He’d lost his dignity a long time ago.  
“Enjoy your evening bastard.” The Imp said as he waddled out.  
“Aye, happy Purging.” Bronn added.  
“And you.” Ramsay muttered, shutting the door behind them. Reek followed him, not liking being alone. Ramsay returned to his chair and Reek rested his head on his master’s lap. “Fucking brilliant. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck that blond haired bitch?” Damon exclaimed.  
“You’re welcome to go after her. I didn’t realise how little you valued your head Damon, ugly though it is.” Ramsay smirked, playing with his pets matted and greasy curls.  
“We could have killed them! With her, there were only three! It would have been easy!” Skinner cried.  
“Yes, there were three. Two of which were Lannisters, and Lannisters pay their debts.” Ramsay reminded them. The boys rolled their eyes in frustration. “What are we going to do now then?” Luton mumbled. _Stay here. Stay down here and let no one else know I’m still alive._ “Like I said, plenty more bitches seeking vengeance. Let’s go and say hello.” Ramsay stood up with sudden energy, excited by the prospect of finding more vengeance seekers. “Come Reek.” He ordered. Reek hurried to his side, struggling to keep up as Ramsay marched over to the door. “Don’t worry Skinner, we’ll find you somewhere else to stick your little cock!” Ramsay laughed.  
“It’s not little!” Skinner yelled. That only made master, and his boys, laugh harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so long since I've worked on this so I am so sorry! From now on I shall try and update every other night, I promise (though it'll probably go to shit until Christmas is over!)


	15. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loras is eager to find Skinner, who was responsible for Renly's death. His need for vengeance soon lands himself, his sister and Sansa in trouble.

Loras was way ahead of them. No matter how many times Margaery called him back, he always ran off again, eager to find the bastard and his friends and avenge Renly’s death. Sansa stayed beside Margaery, despite how desperate she was to find her place at the vengeance feast. Margaery made staying behind more bearable though. They had been good friends once. In fact, Sansa had considered her more of a sister than Arya. Margaery was older than her and beautiful and everything Sansa had wanted to be. But Margaery’s family hadn’t been murdered and she hadn’t ended up being fostered by the Lannister’s and abused by a spoiled, blond haired shit like Joffrey. Sansa no longer cared about whether she was beautiful or accepted. The only thing that mattered to her now was vengeance, and staying alive of course. “I hope we find them soon.” Muttered Margaery. “Loras is growing more restless by the minute. I hope he doesn’t do anything rash.” She confessed.  
“Your brother is a brilliant fighter. Plus he has all of us behind him.” Sansa reassured her.  
“He won’t if he keeps running off! He’ll lose us if he’s not careful.” Margaery walked a little faster, frowning with frustration. The smile returned soon enough. “Tell me Sansa, what happened to you? The last I heard, Joff was hunting you this same night a year ago. Then you disappeared and he was found dead with the skin from his face peeled off!” Sansa’s stomach churned at the thought. As horrible as Joffrey had been, the method of death had been sick and twisted. “I ran from him as soon as I got the chance. Sandor had abandoned him and then Ramsay showed up. Joffrey was so distracted by Ramsay that I managed to slip away.” Sansa told her. She still remembered his menacing voice. How those cold, ghost grey eyes shimmered in the darkness. “Where did you go? Where have you been this past year?” Margaery asked, though she wasn’t paying much attention. Loras had disappeared again. “Mr Baelish....he…” Margaery’s head snapped around to face her.  
“Littlefinger? He took you in?” Her brown eyes searched her, suddenly concerned.  
“Yes.” Sansa smiled. “I learnt a lot from him.” Margaery looked at her, shocked. Before she could ask any more questions, Loras’ voice rang out. “Margaery! Come! Quickly!” He cried. Margaery’s attention was no longer on Sansa. She set off at a sprint. Sansa followed, after she’d readied her crossbow.  
Thankfully there was no need for it.  
She found Margaery and Loras crouched low, hiding behind the shell of a burnt out car. Sansa hurried over to them. “Get down!” Loras hissed. Sansa obeyed wordlessly and trained her eyes to where the other two were looking. A bunch of young men were climbing out of some doors that led to a storage room beneath the Crossroads pub. “That’s them.” Loras growled. Sansa could feel his anger even from her place on the other side of Margaery.   
“Are you sure?” Margaery asked. A set of ghost grey eyes glimmered in the darkness as Ramsay Bolton scanned the gloom. “That’s them.” Sansa answered on Loras’ behalf.   
“We need to tell the men.” Margaery pulled out her phone.  
“Tell them I want that Skinner boy left alive. I’ll drive a knife through his cold, dead heart myself.” There was a time when Sansa would have thought Loras’ words gallant and heroic. Now though, she thought them foolish. _Kill them and be done with it._ As much as she wanted the bastard to have a slow and painful death, dead was dead. She was happy as long as he ended up six feet underground before the night was done. “They aren’t answering their phones. They were right behind us, I swear!” A terrible sense of dread filled Sansa at Margaery’s words.  
“Did you pay these men?” She asked.  
“No. They are loyal to us!” Loras spat.  
“Loyal? This is the night of the Purge! They can do whatever the fuck they like!” Sansa growled back. Margaery and Loras stared at her, shocked by her sudden outburst. “They wouldn’t abandon us.” Loras insisted.  
“Oh yeah? Where are they then?”  
“Did you hear that?” Sansa couldn’t tell which of the boys had spoken. Truth be told, she knew none of them particularly well. “What?” Another asked.  
“I swear I heard voices, over by that car.” A set of footsteps crunched towards them.   
“Quick, get under the car!” Margaery hissed. They were too scared to argue. _We are outnumbered_ she thought as she scrambled beneath the car, clutching the crossbow to her chest _._ Sansa could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage. It was so loud she thought it would blow their cover. “I don’t hear no voices.” Someone said.   
“Something moved. I saw it.” Sansa held her breath. She could tell that Margaery and Loras were doing the same. “Is there someone there?” The voice did not tremble, if anything it sounded more menacing than afraid. Sansa shuddered at the memory of it and she imagined the cold, ghost grey eyes glimmering in the gloom. “Reek, be a good dog and sniff around that car for me. See if there is anyone there.” _He has dogs._ Seven hells, how did she forget that? Tears began to blur her vision, not that there was much to see. She could hear the creature shuffling towards them. The dog was slow moving, but there was little chance they would be able to get out from beneath the car and run fast enough to get away. Sansa felt Margaery begin to tremble beside her, desperately trying to hold back sobs. They could hear the dog make its way to the far side of the car now, taking deep sniffs as it went. _He’s almost at my foot._ Sansa inched the crossbow into position. _Just a little further…just a bit more…_  
She cried out at the sudden pain.  
The tarmac burned as she was pulled over it. She was sure a chunk of hair had been torn out from the sudden pulling. “Well, well, well.” She stared up into a set of ghost grey eyes. “What do we have here?” Ramsay smiled down at his freshly caught vengeance-seeker.


	16. Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos has been given the task of finding Asha and her Wildling friends. The only thing he finds is that his old burgling tricks are proving to be useful.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could stand. If Tormund made one more joke, one more word about his member, Davos would not be able to stop himself from shoving his shortened hand down the Wildling’s throat and tearing his tongue out. Davos wasn’t a particularly violent man, but it was what he had become after an hour walking through the darkened streets with his rag-tag gang of Wildlings. “Shame I got banned from the zoo after that one. It was a good time! Har! I bet those she-bears miss me. Well, me and my mem…”  
“Enough, Tormund!” Davos snapped. Sadly, he needed the man to keep the Wildlings loyal. “You jealous, Onion man? Har!” Tormund bellowed.   
“We need to be quiet. If those girls hear us coming, they’ll run. Stannis needs them.” Well, he only needed Asha to keep control over the Greyjoy’s once he took his city. He doubted Stannis cared much for the other two girls, but he wasn’t about to tell Tormund and his gang that. “Har! You don’t know Ygritte like I do Onion man. She hears us coming, she’ll ready her arrows and run straight towards us, you mark my words! Har!” Tormund laughed and the others cheered in agreement. Davos glanced around, worried that someone might hear them. “Don’t get your underpants in a twist Onion Man! We’ll be quiet now. Yes?” Davos nodded his gratitude as the men behind him fell silent. Up ahead, the large house known as the Dreadfort loomed, formidable in the gloom.   
Davos paused on the edge of the driveway.  
“That is one large house.” Tormund whistled. “I’ll never understand you rich men with your mansions and big driveways.” Davos smiled a tight smile. He was no rich man, but no matter how many times he denied it, Tormund always insisted that he was far better off than himself. Only where money was concerned, of course. “You sure they’ll be in there?” Tormund asked.   
“It’s the only place I can think of. Ygritte is after the bastard for killing Jon. Asha is after the bastard for killing her brother. And Gilly…actually, I don’t know about Gilly.” Davos frowned. The girl had never mentioned anything about wanting vengeance, but she must have a good reason for leaving her baby with Val and risking her life by being out tonight. The girl was no fighter, not like Asha and Ygritte.   
Tormund grew impatient whilst Davos was lost in his thoughts and started towards the house. Davos followed. On reaching the front door, they found that someone had already forced an entry. Tormund did not hesitate and stepped inside, crushing the broken glass from the door beneath his boots. Silence and darkness welcomed them as they entered the Dreadfort. Davos found comfort in that. His time as a burglar had taught him many things; that darkness was his friend was one of them, no matter what the Red Woman preached. But it had also taught him to take his time when entering a house.  
He was glad he remembered that now.  
“Get back here, now.” Davos whispered, not using Tormund’s name.  
“What is it Onion…”  
“Hush, don’t say it, just get here now.” He ordered, more urgently now.  
“Alright, alright.” Tormund strode back over to him. Davos turned and led the way out of the house, only turning back to Tormund when he felt they were at a safe enough distance. “Now, tell me, what is it Onion Man?” Tormund kept his voice low.  
“They have cameras. There are cameras everywhere. I know the Bolton’s. They may not be one for style but they won’t hold back on splashing out for equipment. That’s why I never burgled them before and I’m glad I never burgled them now.”  
“So what? We cover our faces, go in, try and find those girls and get out as soon as we can.” One of the other men said.  
“No it’s too late for that. Knowing the Bolton’s, those were night vision cameras being streamed live to somewhere. Chances are they know we are here already.”  
Right on cue, a car could be heard turning onto the road that went straight past the Dreadfort.   
“Quickly, behind those hedges!” Tormund bellowed. They reached the overgrown hedges just in time. When Davos peered through the branches, his heart caught in his mouth. “Seven save us.” He muttered as Locke climbed out of his car.  
He and Locke were well acquainted. When Davos had been a young burglar, just starting out, he had made the mistake of burgling one of Roose Bolton’s best friends, Walton. Davos got away with plenty of valuables and had been confident he wouldn’t been caught. Private detective Locke had proved him wrong, and he’d made being caught by the City Watch look like fun. Locke and his good friend Roose Bolton always carried out punishments themselves. Davos had been sure never to burgle an associate of Roose Bolton’s again.  
“Is there anyone there?” Locke called out. His voice alone made Davos feel sick. “We can take him.” Tormund insisted. “One man against all of us. It would be easy.”  
“You don’t understand…”   
“I understand that you’re afraid of that man, Onion Man, but I’m not. Har!”   
The ‘Har’ was much too loud.  
“I didn’t know bushes could speak.” Davos heard Locke say. They froze as they heard the footsteps heading towards them. “Orell, ready your bow. Loose on my command.” Tormund ordered as quietly as possible.  
“No! Wait…”  
“Now!”  
The sound of the gun came before the thrum of the arrow.  
“Run!” One of the Wilding’s cried as soon as Orell’s body landed at their feet. Davos was happy to obey. Locke loosed fire on them as they scattered. The last thing Davos heard of the others was Tormund roaring as he took a bullet to the leg. He knew that would not stop Tormund and he did not let it stop him either. He could hear Locke yelling behind him and then the sound of a car engine. _Gods help me._ Davos’ legs flew across the ground with the speed of a young man. Davos knew he was being pulled along by fear. As the car’s headlights cast his shadow onto the ground in front of him, Davos swerved to the right into a narrow alleyway that no car could fit down. Even when he knew he had completely lost his pursuer, Davos did not slow. It seemed almost as though he had switched to auto-pilot and his legs were driving him away without him controlling them.  
Davos never thought twice about the unusual patch of ground he was about to run over. When he fell through it, it came as a complete surprise.

When he opened his eyes, he could not remember falling, only the running. Davos tried to look around and get his bearings, but his surroundings were as black as pitch. Only a set of gleaming green eyes spoiled the never ending darkness. The large beast was on top of him, and he could just about glimpse a large set of yellow teeth. When Davos tried to move, the set of teeth snapped half an inch away from his nose. “Here Shaggydog.” Came a voice from inside the gloom.  


	17. Asha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos and his wildling crew weren't the only ones caught out by the camera trick. Unfortunately for Asha, Ygritte and Gilly, they didn't realise their mistake in time.

She was almost certain she could hear his footsteps approaching, but with Ygritte careering around it was hard to tell. The girl had taken to the gag as a young horse would take to the bit when being broken in. Even in the darkness of the truck, Asha could tell Ygritte had made a bloody mess of her wrists from trying to undo the ropes that bound her. Having grown up on her father’s boat and learning all of the different kinds of knots, Asha knew all her attempts to undo the ropes were in vain. But she couldn’t tell Ygritte that with the gag in her mouth so she sat in sullen silence beside a terrified Gilly and watched Ygritte’s silhouette fling herself around the van. “The fuck you doing to my van?” Locke bellowed, banging on the sides of the van. By the sound of his voice, Asha concluded he was no longer in a good mood like he had been when he’d found them. Perhaps his fresh hunt had managed to evade him.  
She wished they had been so lucky. She should have _known_ the Bolton’s would have had someone guarding the house and cameras to keep an eye out for any unwelcome visitors. By the time Gilly had finished throwing up and they had left the dark, dank basement that was now her brother’s home, Locke had been waiting for them. Asha could have kicked herself but Locke beat her to it and now they were locked in the back of his van that stank of booze, sweat and sluts, being taken off to who knows where. _If I’d been with my men we would have figured out the camera trick_ she tried to tell herself. But she wasn’t with her men. Only two Wildling bitches who thought houses were castles.  
The next time Ygritte came near her, Asha thrust boot out and sent the ginger girl flying across to the other side of the van.  

Asha had somehow dozed off. She woke to Locke throwing the doors open. “Right Ladies, time to meet your new Master. Don’t fret, he might not be for very long. It depends how useful you are.” Locke teased. Ygritte lunged at him, snarling. She didn’t notice the crowbar he had hidden inside his coat. With one sharp thwack she was out cold. “Dumb bitch.” He grumbled. “Lads, take your pick and carry them in.” A group of men appeared, none that Asha recognised. They moved towards her and Gilly, clawing at them. Asha bit one, disliking being treated like a rabbit at a petting zoo. “Now now squid girl, don’t want to make this too hard on yourself. Easier for you to just endure it. There’s plenty worse than us.” One smirked.  
“Yeah, and you’re about to be dragged into a whole pack of them.” Another one laughed. She heard Gilly squeal in terror as they pulled her out of the van. Asha didn’t scream. She allowed them to lead her out, all the while taking in her surroundings; trying to find out whereabouts in the city they were. She could tell they were in the South side somewhere, but once they left the delivery bay behind and headed into the maze of alleyways, it was almost impossible to locate where they were. The city was made up of alleyways and backstreets which all looked the same. “Don’t even think of trying to escape. There’s nothing the Bolton’s love more than a good hunt. If you make it a good one, they might even kill you before they flay you.” The man on her right hissed. After that she kept her eyes focused straight ahead, but still kept track on how many left and rights they took, just in case.   
Eventually, Locke stopped and knocked three times on a large metal door. The building itself was huge. Asha spotted Gilly gazing up at it in awe, forgetting her situation momentarily. The hinges groaned noisily as the metal door opened. “Caught some thieves for Mr Bolton.” The man Locke said the words to was a mountain of a man. He didn’t look particularly clever, but Asha didn’t want to take any chances in fighting against a man that size. “We don’t want know thieves here.” The man grunted.  
“Believe me Gregor, he’ll want this lot.” Asha cringed inwardly at the tone of his voice. Gregor opened the door, watching each of them as they entered. Asha held his gaze for as long as she dared but when she saw his temper flare she looked away. He made her feel like a little girl. She was glad when he didn’t follow them any deeper into the building. It wasn’t what she had been expecting. The walls were painted gold, the carpets deep and soft and red. _Casterly Bank. We’re in Casterly Bank,_ if the stories were to be believed. If someone like her took one step into Casterly Bank they’d be kicked out, no matter what their business was. She understood now why her father had always dreamed of raiding its many floors.  
They were all crammed into a golden elevator. Asha’s stomach flip-flopped as Locke pressed the down button. He noticed her looking at him and smiled a cruel smile. “Looking forward to your date with the boss, squid girl?” The men laughed. Had she not been gagged, she would have spat in his face. Ygritte released a groan and opened her eyes, squinting through the golden glare. The doors opened with a ding. There was no gold down here. They were so deep beneath the building that the walls were made of uncut stone. Locke led the way through the tunnels. There was no way they’d be escaping from here now. Asha didn’t even bother counting how many times they turned left or right, she knew any attempt to run would be hopeless. “In we go, lads! And Ladies, of course.” Locke mocked. Asha could see Ygritte resume her fighting. _She’d rather die than surrender. A man who surrenders lives to fight another day._ Her father’s words made her feel stronger. She wasn’t defeated. Not yet. She entered a high ceilinged room. It was more of a circular cave than a room. “Good evening, Mr Bolton. Mr Lannister.” Locke called. Like two vampires emerging from their coffins, Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister stepped out of the shadows. “I bought you both some gifts. Some girls I caught breaking into your home, Mr Bolton.” Locke informed. Asha, Gilly and Ygritte were forced down onto their knees and held there. “What do we need with some foolish children looking to make some easy money?” Tywin asked sternly, not even acknowledging the kneelers. Roose said nothing. He approached them in silence. First he went to Ygritte, smiling a thin smile when she attempted to snarl at him through the gag. He moved on and assessed Gilly. “These two are not from around here. Locke, remove their gags.” Roose ordered, so softly Asha could barely hear him. They did not remove her gag. Her turn would come, she was sure. “Where are you from?” Roose asked quietly. They said nothing. “Mr Bolton asked you a question.” Locke hissed, gripping Ygritte’s hair tightly.   
“Beyond the Wall.” Ygritte hissed angrily.  
“What brings you to this side of the Wall?” Before they could force an answer from either of them, the sound of footsteps neared the cave. When the door swung open, Asha began to fight the men who had a hold on her. The bastard didn’t notice her as he made his way in. His boys followed, dragging with them three unwilling prisoners; two girls, one brown haired, the other red, and a boy who looked so much like the brown haired girl that they had to be brother and sister. “What is this Ramsay? I’m busy.” Roose muttered, clearly irritated by his son’s unexpected arrival.  
“I’ve brought a few people who might be of interest to you. May I introduce Margaery and Loras…”  
Ramsay’s voice sounded miles away. Only now did she notice the small figure clinging to his leg, trembling uncontrollably. Asha ceased her fighting. Could it be? No…he was so _small_ …so frail…  
When by chance the creature looked around and met her gaze, his sea blue eyes confirmed her fears. “Theon.” She breathed.


	18. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fates of Sansa, Margaery, Loras and Asha are decided after Ygritte makes another valiant attempt to escape her captors.

She bowed her head submissively. She would do whatever she had to in order to survive. She had come too far and gone through too much to give up now.  
That was what she told herself anyway. She was grateful that she didn’t have to look at them. Sansa had spotted them as soon as they had been dragged in by Ramsay’s friends. Mr Lannister and Mr Bolton had been displeased by the interruption, but she knew that it was only a matter of time, once they realised who they were, before they would appreciate Ramsay’s gift. She could hear Roose approach them. He started with Margaery. The silence was deafening. “I take it my son and his friends were gentle with you, Miss Tyrell? I’m surprised they thought to bring you to me first before they…shall we say…indulged themselves.” She could hear the smile in his voice.  
“Get your hands off of her!” Loras growled. Sansa could feel him trembling beside her; whether it was out of fear or anger, she could not say. “The Tyrell siblings.” Roose announced. She heard Tywin approach them. “And what are you two doing outside on the night of the Purge?” He asked. Neither of them answered. Sansa flinched when Ramsay appeared behind them and yanked Loras’ head back. “I believe Mr Lannister asked you a question.” The bastard snarled.  
“Vengeance.” Loras hissed.  
“Against whom? Your family have done very well under my patronage. I see no wrongs that require vengeance.” As Mr Lannister and Loras argued, Sansa could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She saw his pale hand and had to force herself not to lurch away from it. His fingers were icy cold as he stroked her throat, trailing his hand up, gently, until he reached her chin. Roose Bolton forced her to look up at him, into his cold, cruel eyes. He turned her head to the left, then the right, inspecting her closely. When she faced him again, he was smiling. “It’s good to see you, Miss Stark.” He said softly. Sansa did not allow the fear she felt to show on her face. Tywin ceased talking to Loras and turned to look at her. He narrowed his eyes, then turned back to Margaery and Loras. “So the Tyrells are hiding Starks now, is that the way of it?” He snapped, clearly angered by this. Margaery and Loras flinched. “I was not hidden by the Tyrells, Mr Lannister. They came across me as I was being attacked by your daughter, Cersei. She fled and got hit by a car.” Sansa informed. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She finished with a cold smile. Sansa soaked in every second of shock on Tywin Lannister’s face. “Actually, Mr Lannister,” Ramsay stepped forward. “Your daughter is quite safe. My friends and I found her and took her to safety until she regained consciously. Your son Tyrion came and picked her up.” He smiled cruelly at Sansa as he said the words. _Damn you. Damn you to the deepest of the Seven Hells you lying bastard._ Not a flicker of hatred showed on her face. She had mastered that look when she had lived with Cersei and Joffrey for a year. “So, who did hide you?” Tywin asked her. _No point in lying now._ “Mr Baelish.” She admitted. “He took me in after the last Purge.” Sansa looked up at Ramsay now. He stared back, confused by the amused look on her face. “After you killed my grandson.” Tywin looked down at her in disgust, but Sansa didn’t see him. She started to laugh. “Oh, I didn’t kill your grandson, Mr Lannister.” She was going to enjoy this. “He…” _Did._ Sansa was cut off by a feral growl coming from across the room. They all turned to see a red head fighting furiously. She bit the man who was holding her down and spat his finger back at him before starting to attack the rest. They were all stunned into silence as the girl fought herself free. Sansa didn’t recognise her, or the girl next to her. The girl on the end she knew, though only a little. She used to come and pick Theon up sometimes when he was younger. The way she looked at Ramsay’s creature confirmed it too. _Good_ Sansa thought. _Let her know how it feels to lose a brother._ When Sansa had seen what had become of Theon, she had laughed so hysterically that they had to kick her back into silence. That proud, arrogant prick that had killed her brothers was now nothing more than a slave, a pet, clinging to his master’s leg. It was better than seeing him dead.  
“Enough!” Tywin roared. The red headed girl did not stop. Finally free of the men that held her down, she made for the door. Ramsay was faster though. He pounced, knocking her to the ground. “Get off me you bastard!” The girl cried.  
“You should choose your words more carefully.” Ramsay growled back. There was a roar of anger followed by a roar of pain. To Sansa’s surprise, Ramsay reeled back, clutching his ear which was spouting blood. The girl leapt on him. “You should choose your prey more carefully, Snow.” Sansa heard the girl hiss in a thick Northern accent. Sansa admired her bravery. Soon enough, Bolton and Lannister men had appeared and pulled her off of him. One of them held a knife to her throat, ready to finish off the troublemaker. “Wait Locke!” Roose ordered. They all looked over at him, confused. “We need to know why there are Wildlings here. We will question them first.”  
“As you say, sir.” The man called Locke agreed, dragging the red haired wildling back to her companions. “Now, two Tyrells and one Stark. What are we to do with you?” Sansa hardly heard Roose. She was too focused on Ramsay who appeared to have had a chunk of his ear bitten off. Sansa watched in part amusement, part fascination, as Theon crawled over to him and tried to help. “What about this one, sir? She ain’t know wildling.” Locke called out. Tywin continued to look at Sansa and the Tyrells as though they were shit on his boot as Roose made his way over to Asha Greyjoy. “Well we all know why you’re here, don’t we Miss Greyjoy?” Roose asked, amused. “It seems there are many out tonight that want your head bastard.” Roose said to his son, who grumbled some reply, still clutching his ear, wincing as his pet applied pressure to it.  
“A Stark, a Greyjoy and two Tyrells. We need none of them alive. Let them know what happens when they come across us on the night of the Purge.” Tywin announced.  
“I agree. But the Tyrells will be most upset if they believe their blood was spilled by your hand. I suggest you allow my son to deal with them, as a reward for his service.” Roose suggested. Sansa’s heart stopped for a moment. Everyone knew the Bolton's were famous hunters. The Purge was _their_ night. But it would also be a chance to escape. If she could just outrun them…find somewhere to hide…  
“Best to give them a head start. It will make for more of a hunt that way.” Roose advised. Whatever pain Ramsay had felt, it was forgotten. Grinning, Ramsay’s ghost grey eyes caught hers, glinting with malicious glee. “Oh, I’m sure it will be a hunt to remember.”


	19. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night does not get much better for Cersei, but she's dragging Tyrion and Bronn into the pit of misery with her.

“Let go of me! I’m ordering you to let me go now! You vile, useless, disgusting, festering excuse for a human being!” Cersei screeched as her brothers’ sidekick slung her over his shoulder.  
“Now now love, you’ll hurt my feelings.” The man joked.  
“You aren’t capable of feelings. You aren’t even capable of thinking, you have to let my brother do that for you! If you were any more stupid you’d have to be watered twice a week!” She yelled.  
“Scream a bit louder would you? I don’t think that the bastard and his friends quite heard you. Believe me, this journey is going to be a lot more unbearable for us than it is for you sweet sister.” Tyrion said in that arrogant tone he always used when he had one-upped her.  
“I don’t know, my face has been closer to worse arses.” Bronn added. She felt his shoulder dig into her as he shrugged and she snorted in disgust. “That’s not helping.” Tyrion muttered to his companion. Cersei continued to pummel her fists onto Bronn’s back. As I final resort, she dug her nails in and tore into his flesh. “Ouch! You brother-fucking bitch!” Bronn yelled. His grip on her loosened for half a heartbeat and she grasped the opportunity with both hands, twisting her body until she was out of his disgusting grasp. She managed to run five steps before a pain shot up her leg, causing her to crash to the ground. Cersei turned to see an arrow sticking out of her lower leg. Tyrion lowered his crossbow. “You would be as stupid as you are beautiful if you think running away from us will help!” He called.  
“Let me go Tyrion! Or I swear by the Seven that I’ll tear your throat open with nothing but my bare hands.”  
“I don’t doubt you will, but let’s get home first shall we? The night is very dark and full of many terrible things. When we do get home and we see father you will tell him it was the little psycho and his friends that shot you in the leg, not me.” Tyrion instructed.   
“And why should I do what you tell me little brother?”  
“Because I’ll tell father you’ve been fucking Jaime ever since you worked out what your cunt is good for. Now, Bronn, grab her and this time don’t let her go.” Tyrion growled. Cersei had grown weaker after his threat. Her father would be angry enough already as she had disobeyed his orders. The idea of him finding out about her and Jaime was unthinkable, so she allowed Tyrion’s friend to carry her. Just for a while, at least. “Where is Jaime?” She asked quietly.  
“At home. Father didn’t want him out tonight.” Tyrion told her, leading the way down a narrow street. _He didn’t come to save me._ “Why are you here Tyrion?” She seethed.  
“If someone wants to spill some Lannister blood, I am sure father would rather it was mine. He told me to come and find you. He knew where you would be after your friend Taena told him who you were after. You must be a bigger fool than I first thought going after a Bolton. This is their night, or have you forgotten that?”  
“They killed my boy. Jaime let me go, he understood.” She argued.  
“He understood that there was no point trying to stop you. You had the crazy look in your eye again, like the one you get when you’re drunk.” Cersei could hear the smile in his voice.  
“Fuck off Tyrion.” She growled.  
“If you two children are quite cone squabbling, perhaps you’ll pay attention. We’ve got trouble up ahead!” Bronn warned. Cersei could hear that he was right. Nearby was a large gathering of people, marching or on motorbikes, coming down a street. “Well fuck me.” Tyrion breathed. Cersei smiled. At least if she died, her little brother would too. And her father knew who had kidnapped her in the first place; they should know by now that a Lannister always pays their debts. “They’re coming this way.” Her little brother pointed out. He was right. “We can’t fight off that many of them, even with this crazy bitch.”   
“Shut the fuck up Bronn, you filthy man.” Cersei spat.  
“Ta for the sweet words love. Your kind tongue always warms the cockles of my heart.” Bronn muttered back.  
“That’s enough, the pair of you. Bronn, get my sister to safety. I’ll deal with things here.”  
“That sounds like hundreds of men coming your way. You must be mad to think you can just talk your way out of that one.” Bronn jested, though Cersei could’ve sworn she’d heard concern in his voice.  
“Totally insane. Now go.” Tyrion commanded. Bronn turned and hurried towards a narrow alleyway. Before he reached it, Cersei glanced up to see what she hoped was the last time she’d glimpse the thorn in her side that was Tyrion. The mixture of sadness and terror on his face only made the moment all the sweeter. “You move and I’ll rob anyone else’s chance of killing you.” Bronn growled as he set her down on the ground to inspect what he could of his back. Cersei didn’t plan on going anywhere. In the darkness of the alleyway, she could hear the hoard of men approaching. Cersei closed her eyes and imagined him standing, completely alone, facing the large crowd. In her mind, they didn’t stop for a second, just trampled him beneath their boots, muffling his pain, smothering him and finally leaving him bruised and bloody on the cold tarmac, death slowly creeping up on him as the blood seeped out of his cracked head.  
When she opened her eyes again, there was nothing but silence. She looked up at Bronn for an explanation but soon saw that he was just as confused as she was. “What’s going…”  
“Glad I found you in time.”  
“You and me both brother.” Bronn didn’t even see her she moved so fast. Cersei forgot the pain in her leg and ran straight to her twin. She flung her arms around him. He patted her awkwardly on the back with his good hand. “I knew you’d come for me.” She whispered tearfully.  
“Actually, I trusted Tyrion to do that for me. It appears as though he succeeded.” Jaime smiled at his little brother, making anger eat away at the relief Cersei had felt.  
“Succeeded? He shot me in the fucking leg!” She screamed, pointing to the hole in her calf.  
“We don’t have time to worry about that now. Tyrion, can you get Cersei home? Now?” Jaime asked, once again not meeting her gaze.  
“Of course. What is it brother? What’s wrong?” Tyrion asked.  
“I got a call from father. It seems Stannis is paying us a visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so long since my last update. I promise, next week updates will start to be a lot more consistent again.


	20. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds out where she's headed and decides it could be worse.

When she came to, she didn’t have a clue where she was. Arya sat up and glanced around. They were inside another building. Through a doorway, she could hear someone grunting in pain. _The Hound._ On further inspection, she realised they must be in a pharmacy somewhere. She had been shoved in a back room, with no obvious escape route except through the doorway the noises were coming from. She’d have to kill him to escape. _Fine_. It was then Arya realised that Needle was no longer by her side. She searched her belt frantically, then looked for it in the small room, despite knowing it was useless. The Hound might be stupid, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave her with a weapon. She would have to worry about Needle later. Eventually, Arya spotted a fire extinguisher. _It’ll do_. It was hard to take it off of the wall though and every sound seemed to be deafening. It was heavy too. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. The heavier it was, the more damage it could do. But it would also make her slow. Arya hauled the extinguisher up into her arms and crept over to the door, peering around to try and find out where he was. “Fuck.” The Hound hissed. It was clear that he was sitting beside a cardboard box filled with bandages, trying to fasten one around his arm. It was also clear that he was struggling with the task. _Quiet as a shadow_. She slipped towards him, slowly raising the fire extinguisher until it was above her head. Only three more steps. _Swift as a deer_. Two. _Calm as still water._ One…  
“I’ll give you one try girl.” She froze, the fire extinguisher high above her head. He turned his head but did not look up. He was more stupid than she’d first thought. “Kill me and you’re free. But if I live, I’ll break both your hands.” Arya knew it was no empty threat. “Go on. Hit me.” Her arms were beginning to tremble. “Hit me hard.”  
Before she could even drop the fire extinguisher, he had swept his arm around and knocked her to the floor. When he stood up, she felt like the child she was. She hated him for it. “Come on.” He barked, picking up the box of bandages and leaving her in the pharmacy. In the dim light of the room, she could see Needle threaded through his belt, grinning at her. Arya knew she could not leave it behind.

“Sulk all you want!” He yelled over the engine. They shot through the streets, dodging other Purge participants before they could even pull out a gun to shoot. “Truth is, you’re lucky. You don’t want to be alone out here girl. Someone worse than me will find you.”   
“There’s no one worse then you.” She spat. For a long time, Arya had believed it. Now though she wasn’t so sure. One thing she did know, as he leant over her to steer the motorbike, he smelled worse than anyone she’d ever met. “My brother. He once killed a man for snoring. There’s plenty worse than me. There’s men who like to beat little girls. Men who like to rape them. Saved your sister from some of them.”  
“You’re lying!” Arya growled. There was no way that this man would have saved her sister from anyone. He worked for the Lannister’s. They _were_ the people that would do such a thing. “Ask her. If you ever see her again.” Arya could feel the bike beginning to slow down. Moments later, it grinded to a halt beside a tall skyscraper. Arya looked up at it. “Is that Casterly Bank?” She asked. It didn’t look like Casterly Bank, but she had only ever seen the building from one side. Perhaps this was what it looked like from the back. Where else would the Hound be taking her? “Casterly Bank? Where do you think I’m taking you?”  
“Back to the Lannister’s? To Cersei and Tywin?” Arya looked up at him, suddenly confused.  
“Fuck Cersei. Fuck Tywin. I’m taking you to the only man I know who might be willing to look after you. If you’re lucky, he might put you to work in one of his brothels.” He got off of his bike and led the way towards the entrance to the building. Arya followed after him, her eyes focused on Needle. “Why is that lucky?”  
“Because if he doesn’t, chances are he’ll sell you to some rich family. Ever fancied being a martyr girl?”  
“What’s that?”  
“It’s how most rich people Purge. They buy their victims, then they slaughter them. Some might put you into a hunting ground to make it more fun. Most just tie you to a chair and hack you to pieces.” He walked into the building without checking to see if she was following. She was, of course. The building appeared to have multiple uses. The lower levels were offices. Above that were the brothels and above that were penthouse suites. It was silent in there, of course. They were probably all hiding. Sandor headed straight for the elevator and Arya followed, chewing her lip and plotting several ways to get Needle back. After about a minute of gallery music, Sandor snapped. “The fuck you staring at girl?” He growled.  
“Can I have my sword back now?” She spat.  
“Once Littlefinger pays for you. Wouldn’t call it a sword though.” She had to bite back a hiss as he fondled the handle. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep it. Couldn’t do much damage with this thing. This all you got on you?” Arya nodded. “Dumb bitch. Coming out here with nothing but a needle.” He grumbled. Arya smiled. “That’s its name, Needle.” She told him.  
“Of course you named your sword.” He muttered.  
“Lots of people name their swords.” She spat back defensively.  
“Lots of cunts.” Before she could hit him, the doors sprang open onto a lengthy hallway with only one visible door. Arya hesitated. There was a familiar scent in the air, but she couldn’t quite work out what it was. By the time she’d stepped out of the elevator, he was already at the lonely door. “Baelish! Baelish answer the fucking door! I’ve bought you a gold mine here! Open up!” He hammered repeatedly but the door remained closed. By the time Arya reached him, the Hound had lost patience. “Fuck this shit.” He sighed, taking three steps back. The door gave way immediately on impact. The smell was stronger inside. “Baelish?” Sandor called, pulling out a gun and stepping inside. Arya followed, feeling painfully vulnerable without a weapon. Inside the apartment, all the lights were off. The only light came from the floor to ceiling windows that looked out across the city. Not far away, a huge fire was raging, swallowing building after building. The apartment itself was nice; modern and high-tech, everything polished to perfection. But still the smell was the most dominating thing. Going off instinct, Arya followed her nose. “Where the fuck you going?” The Hound growled as she wondered away from him. By listening, she could tell they were alone. She wondered through the rooms and stopped when the smell began to suffocate her. Arya fumbled for the light switch. “Oh fuck.” Sandor breathed. Littlefinger had been tied to the bed and stripped naked. An arrow was buried deep in his chest.  
Yes, Arya knew the smell of death all too well.  
She began to laugh.    


	21. Asha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Asha finds herself a part of an unlikely trio as she tries her best to evade capture from the hunters.

Once again, Asha found herself a part of an unlikely trio. The two Tyrell’s followed her, no matter how many times the thought she had lost them. Somewhere, quite a way behind them, she could hear dogs barking as Ramsay released his hounds. Eventually she had given up trying to get rid of the Tyrells and was instead focusing on getting as far away from the bastard and his boys as she could. Without saying anything to one another, the trio had worked together, navigating their way through the streets. At least these two kept up and didn’t argue. As the sound of dogs grew quieter and quieter, they allowed their pace to drop slightly. Asha slowed to a stop and slipped into a narrow alley so they could catch their breath quickly. They needed water, but finding and breaking into somewhere to get some would take far too long. “You’re Asha Greyjoy, right?” The boy gasped.  
“Yeah.” Asha replied, already thinking of a new tactic to outsmart their hunters.  
“I’m Loras, and this is my sister Margaery.” He continued.  
“That’s nice. Let’s go.” She muttered, heading back out onto the street at a fast walk.   
“Why are you out here tonight?” Margaery asked her, matching her quick steps. Asha pressed on, not wanting to talk about it. “Were those two girls your friends? I’m sure they’ll be ok, once they give Tywin the information he needs.”  
“Spare me the bullshit. They weren’t my friends and they’ll be dead soon, if they aren’t already.” Asha snapped, suddenly wishing she had tried harder to lose them both after all.   
“You want the bastard dead, don’t you?” Loras asked. Asha remained silent, moving into a jog. The Tyrell’s fell into step beside her. Fuck flowers, these guys were more like wasps. “You want him dead for what he’s done to your brother?” It was said so quietly that Asha half thought she’d imagined it. The look on Loras’ face told her she had not. “My brother’s dead.” She hissed.  
“I understand. They killed someone I loved too.” Loras muttered. This was getting far too mushy for Asha’s taste. “We need to get to the nearest underground station. From there we can get down beneath the city and wait until it’s all over. We’ll take to the sewers maybe…”  
“What? No! I can’t give up. I have to kill them. We can fight them. We…”  
“Asha is right Loras, I’m sorry. There are too many of them. There’s always next year.” His sister cut him off gently.  
“No. I swore to avenge him and that’s what I intend to do.” Loras turned back the way they had come. “You can hide beneath the city, sister, but I’m not running from Ramsay and his men. Unlike some people, I don’t give up.” Even in the darkness, Asha could feel his accusing glare. Any chance he had of her trying to convince him to do the right thing had now vanished. “Fine, just be sure to put the lid back on the pen when you’re done signing your death certificate.” She snapped, turning away from him and carrying on down the road.  
“Loras! Wait! You can’t go alone…wait…seven hells! LORAS!” Margaery’s scream of fear made her turn around. What she saw made her groan inwardly. Loras was being dragged along the road. At first it looked as though he was being pulled by invisible hands, but Asha spotted the rope fastened tight around his ankle. The stupid, pretty boy had charged straight into a trap. She went to turn away again, knowing that there was nothing she could do. Margaery cried out again and began to run towards her brother to try and help him. Asha felt an overwhelming sense of grief and guilt. She _knew_ what it was like to lose a brother. She _knew_ how hard it was to let someone you love go without trying to save them.  
Asha turned and hurried over to where Margaery was crouched beside her brother. “Please…you work on ships, I’ve seen you…please help me untie this knot!” Margaery cried. Wordlessly, Asha moved down to where the rope had tightened around his ankle. The trap had pulled with such strength that it made his ankle look strange. Asha suspected it was broken, at best, sprained. On further inspection of the knot itself, Asha felt her stomach tighten with dread. “Margaery, we can’t stay here.” She whispered, glancing around anxiously.  
“If we can just free him, we could drag him…”  
“Listen, there’s no time for that…” Her voice trailed off as the sound of motorcycles kicked in. “Shit, Margaery, we have to go and we have to go now! If you want to live.”  
“I can’t leave him! He’s my brother!” Margaery cried. Asha despaired as the motorcycles drew closer. She could leave the pretty bitch to be finished off by them, but something made her hesitate. She didn’t want to. Margaery’s brother would die and they could share the pain of losing a brother. Asha could feel a hand on her arm. She looked down to see Loras gripping her tightly. _Save my sister, I understand_. His look was all she needed. Asha offered him a small smile before standing up and moving over to Margaery. Before the girl could make a sound, Asha had grabbed her arm and was hauling her down the street. “No! What are you doing? Loras! LORAS!” The girl wailed. Asha did her best to hide the sight from her but it was no good. The Dothraki slid into view on their motorcycles and leapt off before they had even drawn to a halt. Even Asha had to look away as they hacked at the Tyrell boy’s body with their arakhs. “Fucking Dothraki.” Asha spat. She turned back to Margaery whose gaze had turned vacant. Grief was gradually tightening its grip on her. “Now is not the time or place.” Asha growled. She shoved Margaery into action, pulling her along when she felt like they were going too slowly.

She knew it was too good to be true. After they had fled the Dothraki attack, things had gone far too smoothly. When she heard the dogs begin to bark, she knew their luck had run out. Keeping a firm hold on Margaery’s wrist, she’d dragged her into a run. Fortunately, with what little luck remained, Asha had managed to recognise her surroundings and find the nearest underground station without winding through a maze of alleyways. Unfortunately, the dogs were too close for comfort. Asha plunged down into the darkness of the underground train station, clinging to the bannister to hold stop them both from falling down the steps. Once they reached the bottom, Asha chanced a glance up at the street. The hounds had already begun their descent. “Faster Margaery! Come on! You can do it!” She tried her best to sound encouraging. A part of Asha wanted to just let her go and save herself, but then Loras’ pleading look would fill her thoughts and she’d hold on just that bit tighter.  
They were on the platform now. Asha did not hesitate. She leapt down onto the tracks. Margaery fell and let out a cry of pain. The baying of hounds seemed to surround them. “C’mon!” Asha pulled her companion to her feet and they continued into the dark tunnel. The baying of hounds had now been joined by the cheerful cries of the hunters.   
“I can’t!” Margaery cried out, catching her foot on the tracks. Asha glanced towards the entrance of the tunnel where the dogs had now appeared. “Margaery, we have to go!” She urged desperately.  
“I can’t! My ankle, it’s twisted! Go without me!” The girl wailed, clutching her ankle. Asha could see tears glistening on her pretty face. Another glance up and Asha knew they were out of time. “Being torn apart by dogs is a terrible way to die. You’d die ugly.” They began to laugh awkwardly. The happiness was forced, considering their situation. Asha moved to stand in front of Margaery. The dogs were so close now, she could hear their ragged breathing as they ran. Asha readied herself for the fight. If she was to die, she would die fighting.   
The hound’s eyes glistened in the darkness, bobbing wildly as it charged towards her. Saliva flicked off its tongue. Asha licked her dry lips and let out a feral growl. “C’mon then you furry bastard, let’s have you.” She hissed. But before her fight could begin, something brushed passed her. Before it began its attack, she glimpsed a set of bright green eyes.


	22. Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos stumbles across a damsel in distress and a kraken out of water.

Davos tripped and stumbled over the tracks, blinded by darkness until he finally managed to free his phone from his pocket. With the stumps that were what remained of his fingers, he turned on the torch and trained the light down towards his feet. He still stumbled a few times though; distracted by the sounds of feral growls and the tearing of flesh. Not to mention the screams of agony as they met a slow and gruesome death. “Rickon?” He called out into the darkness. “I’m here, onion man.” Davos started when the voice came from closer than he would have liked. Guiding the light around, he found the pale face, glowing in the darkness. “Looks like Shaggydog has found food!” The boy laughed, squinting into the light. The pale face bounced back into the darkness once more. “Rickon, wait!” The boy had a habit of disappearing. He knew the passages and sewers beneath the city so well and had been alone for so long that Davos had been forgotten more than once and had found himself lost amongst the maze of tunnels until Rickon or the beast sniffed him out. The beast, whom Rickon had named Shaggydog, had been living down here before the boy had. Despite the name, it was no dog. It was so big that Davos had not yet been able to figure out what it was exactly. When he’d tried to cast the light of his phone over it, it had not been enough to illuminate the whole animal. When he’d kept the light on it for too long, he had angered it. That was something Davos never wanted to do again. Had Rickon not been here to stop it, it would have torn him to shreds.  
“Shaggydog, here! Shaggydog to me!” Davos heard Rickon call with urgency in his voice. A low growl came next followed by a girl screaming. “Get it away from us! Get it AWAY!” She cried.  
“Don’t scream. You’ll anger him!” Rickon snapped back. “Here Shaggydog.” Davos hurried forward as fast as he could without falling. Aiming the torch up slightly, he caught sight of three faces and Shaggydog’s bright green gaze. “Rickon, who is it?” He asked.  
“Dunno. Two women. Shaggydog killed the rest.” The boy answered, squinting into the light of the torch. Davos moved closer and studied their faces. He recognised them both, but only just. “Well if it isn’t Miss Greyjoy! I’ve had quite the adventure trying to find you. And your companions.” Asha turned away from the light, but not before he’d glimpsed her expression.   
“Asha? Where are Ygritte and Gilly?” He asked. A part of him already knew. That didn’t make her next words any easier to hear. “They’re dead. The Bolton’s found us. The bastard was going to hunt us all but Tywin wanted to question them. Wanted to know why there were Wildlings beyond the wall.” Asha told him, but Davos heard none of it. Instead, he heard baby Sam screaming for his mother, the mother who never came back. He saw the baby turn into a boy, forever watching the front door, waiting for his mother to come back to him. And Ygritte, the fiery red head who’d wanted nothing more than to avenge the death of the boy she claimed she did not love. Davos hoped with all his heart that she had loved him. Dying for love must be better than blinding hatred.   
“What’s wrong, onion man?” Rickon asked, stepping away from him as though emotions were a plague.  
“Nothing. You.” He turned to the other girl “You’re Margaery Tyrell aren’t you?” The girl nodded and smiled slightly. Her face was everywhere in this city. Since Sansa Stark had gone missing and Cersei Baratheon had grown too old, companies were short on well known, pretty girls to use as models in business campaigns. Margaery’s face was at every bus stop and on every building. “We need to get you back to Stannis. All of you.” Davos announced. He was the adult here. It was time he took charge. “Are you mad? Ramsay Snow is hunting us! We can’t go out there!” Margaery cried.  
“Yeah, I’m not going to my death searching for Stannis! The night is almost done! Your man has lost, Davos.” Asha spat. Davos checked the time on his phone. It was true. Only two hours remained of the Purge. Davos knew that they must be in the South Side now. If Stannis wasn’t here yet, he was running out of time. “What will you do onion man?” Rickon asked. Davos was about to suggest they stay here when they heard a scream from somewhere in the tunnel, quite a way off but it still made him feel uncomfortable. “We can’t stay here.” He decided. Davos turned to Asha and Margaery. “Do you two have any idea where we are?”  
“No. Sorry. We didn’t really have time, you know, being chased by psychos and feral dogs and all that.” Asha spat.” Davos kept his mouth shut. The girl had been through a lot and her pride had no doubt been wounded by repeated failures. “No chance we can come back the way we came Rickon?” Davos asked. Rickon tapped a watch that was not there. “Out of time, onion man. Unless onions can breathe through shit.” The boy shrugged. Davos nodded. They had barely gotten out in time before. The sewers could be dangerous and Rickon new the times to dodge when the water rose too high. It left only one option. “Well, you know what they say, up and out!” Davos led the way into the darkness.  
“Are you mad? We can’t go back out there!” Asha called, running up beside him.  
“What other choice do we have?” He wasn’t any happier about it than she was, but he had to get back to Stannis. If he could find a safe place to put his companions, he could move faster by himself and find Stannis, then bring him to them. He had Rickon Stark, the key to the North, Asha Greyjoy, she was of value to the ironmen and Margaery Tyrell, who seemed to be important to everyone. “Did you say that boys name was Rickon?” Margaery called.  
“Yes.” Davos muttered. There was no harm in admitting that to the girl who was essentially his captive. “As in, Rickon Stark?” She continued.  
“Yes.” Rickon heard his full name and scurried over to join them. Margaery cowered slightly from Shaggydog. “I’m friends with your sister, Sansa.” The girl smiled.  
“Some friend. You abandoned her the first chance you got!” Asha hissed.  
“What? Sansa is alive? Is she being hunted like you two were? Where is she?” The questions streamed from Rickon’s mouth, growing louder and louder. “Quiet!” Davos ordered, fearing they would be heard.  
“I didn’t abandon her! Ramsay cut her off from us. By the time we realised she was gone, it was too late.” Margaery muttered.  
“Sorry kid, your sister’s bastard fodder now.” Davos scowled at Asha before she could lay into Rickon any further. “What? He’s not the first to lose a sibling tonight.” She growled before storming off into the darkness.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An update!


	23. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is being hunted by one of the cities greatest hunters.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she knew that if she didn’t stop soon she would collapse from sheer exhaustion. Her breathing was short and staggered. Her legs were on fire.  
Sansa carried on running.  
“Better fly faster little birdy! I can see you!” Ramsay’s voice echoed around her, seeping into her mind word by word and stirring themselves together. She cried out as an arrow whistled passed her, driving her down the alley to her right. “If you make it out of this alley, you win!” Once again, the words swam, disjointed, around Sansa’s mind. By the time she’d figured out what he’d said, it was too late. The wall seemed to spring up out of nowhere and she almost ran into it. She gazed up at it, swallowing nerves and gasping for breath. It stretched up high above her, but not forever. Gripping the small ledges caused by the tacky brickwork, she began to climb. She would escape or die trying.  
She must have climbed about eight feet when another crossbow bolt bounced off the wall, inches above her head. “Go on, keep climbing! I want some moving target practise!” Ramsay jeered from below. Sansa could feel her arms beginning to tremble. Tears streamed down her face when she realised she’d never make it over the wall. She had been sure she’d be ready for death if it came, but now the time was near, she couldn’t supress the sob that shuddered through her. She sobbed again as she felt another arrow tickle her foot. At a loss of what else to do, Sansa began to climb again. “Too slow!” Before Sansa had processed his words, pain shot up her leg. Sansa screamed as her fragile hold on the wall fell away and she crashed onto the concrete below.  
The taste of blood returned as her head made contact with the ground, but she remained conscious. _That means I can still fight._ But as she tried to move, she doubted she’d even be strong enough to lift herself off of the ground. Her head pounded and her back was in agony.   
She could hear him coming closer. Turning her head slowly, Ramsay came into view; eyes glinting like two moons in the darkness. She stared up at him, too dazed to even look fearful. “Not so pretty now, are you Miss Stark?” He chuckled. Sansa slurred out a retort but her mutterings were incomprehensible and only made his grin broaden. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Sansa held out a weak hand in feeble protest as he knelt down beside her. More tears began to fall as he took advantage of her dazed state; running his hands all over her body, making her skin crawl, before settling at the waistband of her trousers. Before he could even start undoing them, Sansa heard Theon cry out in alarm. “Master! Master…someone is coming!” Ramsay sighed in frustration.  
“Don’t move love.” He muttered, patting her cheek patronisingly before moving away to answer his pets call. Sansa slumped against the hard concrete, relaxing now that the danger was gone. There was a strange whirring sound in her head that was gradually increasing in volume. Sansa was suddenly blinded by a shock of white light. She squeezed her eyelids shut. The blinding rays were still there when she opened them and it dawned on her that the whirring sound wasn’t in her head at all.  
The motorbikes sped closer. She could see Ramsay’s figure, silhouetted by the light. “Come on then you fuckers!” She heard him laugh. She could imagine his cold eyes, manic and wild in the blinding light. Then his silhouette was gone. Sansa watched as his legs were swiped out from beneath him, the sound of the baseball bat slamming into his shins filled the alley, accompanied by Reek’s terrified screams. One of the motorbikes skidded to a halt beside Ramsay’s stirring form. The other kept coming, slowing down as it drew nearer.  
Sansa held her breath.  
When the figure came into view, she whimpered in fear. It was the ugliest face she’d ever seen. Two eyes glinted amongst dark circles and the mouth appeared to be sewn shut. It kneeled down beside her. The fear ebbed away a little when she realised it was wearing a mask, but she still struggled for breath. It was not a mask she recognised and it belonged to no family that she knew of. “Who are you?” She asked. It tilted its head, peering at her through the mask. She could hear it breathe; slow, steady breaths. It snapped its head up and let out a sharp, piercing whistle, though the mask muffled it so it became a sinister whine. Sansa turned and saw the red brake lights of a van appear at the end of the alley, slowly coming closer as it was manoeuvred towards them. The masked figure lifted her up off the ground. Her insides screamed at her, commanding she should try to escape. But her head began to loll against the masked man’s chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the darkness of the van or unconsciousness that consumed her first.  


	24. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reek's in for more trauma, not helped by an angry Ramsay.

It took both men to carry the writhing, panicked creature and stuff him into the back of the van. And that wasn’t until after they’d put Ramsay inside. “Don’t touch me!” Reek screamed. “Master doesn’t like other people touching me without permission!” The frightened squeals seemed to wake Ramsay up a bit, but his hands and feet were already bound together with cable ties. The two men moved forward to do the same to Reek, resulting in another desperate attack from him. “Don’t you touch him.” Ramsay growled. The inside of the van was so dark that Reek could hardly see his Master. “See? He says you can’t! Please…don’t hurt me Master! Please! I am good Reek. Loyal Reek. I don’t want anyone but you to touch me!” Reek thrashed out his wiry arms and legs but the masked men were much stronger than he was. Soon enough, his thrashing was restrained with cable ties and the men stuffed a gag in his mouth to silence his screams. They did, however, do him the mercy of throwing him closer to his Master. The masked men left, slamming the door and banging on it twice to signal the driver. Reek curled up into Ramsay, trying to get as deep into him as he was able as the van began to move. “It’s alright Reek, I’ll get us out of this. Don’t fret my little pet.” Ramsay cooed. Reek whimpered a reply, then was startled as a bright light was shone in directly in his eyes. Another man stood almost directly over them, his face hidden by yet another hideous mask. It slowly moved away from them, his torchlight revealing two more figures; another masked man was crouched beside Sansa, who was slowly beginning to come too. “And there was me hoping they’d finish the bitch off for me.” Reek heard his Master growl. He could sense that his Master was angry, and feared it was due to how the masked men had man handled him. With the gag in his mouth, Reek had to rely on a pleading gaze to try and calm his Master. He burrowed into him further too. “Oh stop it Reek. You know I like it when you look at me like that, but with these cable ties I can’t do anything about it.” His Master’s words were harsh and Reek whined, trembling a little. “Don’t worry pet, it’s not you I’m mad at.” He could tell his Master was trying his best to sound kinder, so Reek rested his head on Ramsay’s shoulder to show his gratitude. “Where are you taking us?” Master asked the masked man that stood over them. There was no reply. “Do you have any idea who I am?” Despite the menacing tone that made Reek tremble, the masked man still made no reply.  
“Where are we?” Sansa groaned, looking around groggily. Theon did not want to look at her. With the torches directed at him, it was clear what he had become. The humiliation was too much. “Do you work for her? Did you come to rescue her? I _demand_ to know.” Reek could feel every muscle in his Master’s body tense with anger when no reply came.   
“I have no idea who they are.” Sansa admitted.  
“Why should I take your word for it, bitch?” Ramsay seethed.  
“That the best you’ve got?” She asked, angering his Master further. Reek tried to crawl onto his Master’s lap but Ramsay shoved him off. “Not now.” He spat. Meanwhile, Sansa’s hands and feet were being bound together. She waved her bound limbs around. “Does that answer your question bastard?” Reek whined at the word. Theon felt his heart soar. Ramsay bared his teeth and growled. “Don’t you like being called bastard, _bastard_? Well? What are you going to do to get you and your pet out of this _bastard_?” Sansa taunted. Ramsay roared with anger and thrust his feet out, shoving the legs out from beneath the standing masked man, who went down with a grunt. Before Ramsay could advance his attack, the other masked man pulled out what Theon knew to be a Taser gun.  
Reek let out a devastated wail as his Master crashed back and began to convulse on the floor. He wanted to go to him, but Theon drew strength from Ramsay’s weakness and stayed put. The masked man aiming the Taser at him helped too.


	25. Davos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos and his gang of youths have found a place to wait out the night. But can their hosts be trusted?

Davos stood beside the window as the youngsters handed out drinks. Somewhere behind him Margaery laughed, her grief momentarily forgotten with each new glass she downed. Two of the men flocked to her side and stayed there; one with his hand on her knee, the other with his arm around her. Asha was also getting her fair share of attention, though she didn’t seem to be enjoying it as much as Margaery was. She pushed her suitor away multiple times and refused any drinks offered to her. Davos could tell she hated being here as much as he did. The only person who hated the place more than Davos did was perhaps Rickon, who was sitting in the corner of the room, legs and arms crossed, sulking. The Kettleblack brothers had agreed to let the filthy child in, but not his pet. “He’ll be safe in the garage.” Davos promised as they dragged the boy, kicking and screaming, to the stairs.  
Davos wished he’d stayed in the garage with Shaggydog.  
The apartment was a complete boy’s pad; gaming chairs, an endless supply of beer and the never-fading scent of sweat and old-farts. It had been Margaery’s idea to come here after she realised how close she had been to their apartment, though Davos doubted she had ever actually been there. “Osney, Osfryd and Osmund are all good friends of mine!” She’d promised, though it looked like they had a little bit more than friendship on their minds. “We can wait there until the night is over.” Unable to think of a better plan, Davos had agreed to it. He had no friends in this part of the city. He had only Stannis and, if the plumes of smoke were anything to go by, he was a long way away.   
Davos turned away from the window in search for other distractions. He found none that were pleasing enough to look at for longer than a minute. Margaery seemed barely able to sit up straight, Asha had a face like thunder, as did Rickon, and nothing in the apartment pleased the eye. “Excuse me,” He walked over to one of the men who had given up trying to get Asha’s attention and was playing with his mobile phone instead. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”   
“Sure mate. The main one is broken but you can use the one in Osney’s room. Second on the right.” Davos wasn’t sure which brother he was talking to, so he just thanked him and headed down the hall.   
He didn’t really need the bathroom. A good job really. Even when he was growing up, Davos had never come across such a disgusting toilet. He left the door open a little just so that he wasn’t fully trapped inside the stink-pit. He tried his best not to touch anything besides the light switch. He assessed the damage that was done when he’d fallen through the rotten doors into the tunnels beneath the city. Blood had dried in his thinning, grey hair but he could glimpse the open wound beneath it. No wonder he had such a bad headache. It would have to wait until the night was done. It _could_ wait until the night was done. Then he’d get back to Stannis with his hostages and they’d plan strategies ready for the next Purge. Davos forced himself to smile at his reflection. _Everything will be fine_. Then what was the reason for the unnerving sensation in the pit of his stomach?  
Davos was just about to turn and leave when the light flickered on in Osney’s room. Curious as to why he would have left Margaery’s side, Davos inched over to the crack in the door and watched as the man pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a packet of pills. Osney fumbled with the childproof cap, his fingers shaking nervously. When he did manage to open it, he didn’t bother to count how many fell into his hand, just downed them with a few gulps of whiskey. Osney moved over to the grimy mirror and checked his feverish reflection. He tried his best to hear what the boy was muttering to himself, but Osney was too far away from Davos’ prying ears.  
He waited until he was sure Osney had returned to ‘comfort’ Margaery before leaving the bathroom. He clenched his whole hand nervously, palms slick with sweat. Nothing seemed to have changed by the time he’d reached the lounge area. Perhaps Margaery was a little drunker and Rickon a little moodier, but other than that…  
Asha caught his nervous gaze and frowned up at him. She knew better than to voice what little concern she had. He went and sat down beside her so that they could talk quietly. “Don’t react to what I say. We need to get out of here. Now. I think something is going to happen. These men aren’t Margaery’s friends. Not anymore.” Davos told her, never even looking her way.  
“How do you know?” Asha asked in a flat, disinterested tone.  
“They’ve got Margaery drunk. I just saw that Osney guy downing pills with whiskey, trying to calm himself down. And they locked up Shaggydog. Call that beast what you will, but he would protect that boy with his life.” He was sure. Shaggydog, once in the light, had appeared to be a lot more than just a dog. He was a wolf, and a monstrous one at that. Davos had wondered how a wolf had come to be down in the sewers, but he had seen a great many stranger things. “So what do we do?”  
“What are you two whispering about?” The man Davos had spoken to earlier asked from the kitchen.  
“Just…figuring out how long until the night’s over.” Asha blurted.  
“Don’t worry Asha, they’ll let us stay here until it’s over. Won’t you Osfryd?” Margaery slurred.  
“Of course.” Osfryd’s smile was shark like and it made Davos’ stomach turn. “You’re quite safe. Here. With us.” The grin widened. Davos didn’t like it one bit. “Actually, perhaps we should be going.” Davos stood up and Asha followed suit. “We have places we need to be.”  
“And I want Shaggydog back!” Rickon cried, leaping to his feet.  
“Are you coming Margaery?” Asha asked coldly.  
“Why? We have alcohol here. And company. Why should I leave?” Margaery whined. Asha rolled her eyes and muttered a curse before storming towards the front door. “Where do you think you’re going, Princess?” Osmund slipped in front of her then, barring her way. Almost by instinct, Asha’s knee came up into his groin. “Don’t call me Princess.” She hissed. Davos hurried after her, eager to be gone. “Let’s go.” He muttered.   
Before they reached the door to the apartment, another Kettleblack slid in front of them, blocking their exit. Davos heard Rickon growl beside him. “What’s the rush? Like Marj said, you are welcome to stay.” It was the one who had been hitting on Asha earlier. Davos felt as though he’d earned her spit in his face so was not shocked when it happened. “Fine. You want to be like that? You can spend the rest of your night somewhere else. All of you.” He pressed the button that activated the speaker. At the other end of the line, Davos only heard heavy breathing. “Come on up boys, they’re ready for you.” He laughed. Asha cried out as she went to punch him, but found he was quicker than she’d anticipated. He caught her arm and twisted it, forcing her to turn. Davos moved forward to try and help her. “One more move and she dies.” He growled, the knife glinting as it brushed the pale flesh of her neck. Davos froze. “Move to the sofa.” The man ordered, pressing the knife deeper against her neck until Davos was forced to oblige, dragging Rickon with him.  
“I trusted you! I trusted you and this is how you repay me?” Margaery screamed.  
“Hush now darling. You were fun, but we’ve moved on to bigger fish now. Or should I say cats?”   
“Cats? CATS? You owe my family everything. You…you rotten little snake! The Tyrells won’t forget this! We’ll…” Her speech was cut short as the bullet blew her pretty little head off. Davos flinched as he felt blood spatter his face. “Too many words.” Osney muttered, his hand still shaking.  
“You did her a kindness really.” The other admitted.   
Then the doors flew open.  
The first thing Davos noticed were the masks. Each was different, more hideous than the last, and belonged to no family that he knew of. “Take these three.” Osmund barked.  
“I want Shaggydog!” Rickon screamed, lashing out as the masked men tried to grab him. Davos made no attempt to fight. Eventually, Rickon’s screaming died down and Davos turned to see that his body had gone limp; a needle stuck out of his arm. “Don’t hurt him, please?” Davos asked of the man who was binding his hands together with cable ties.  
The masked man did not answer, only pushed Davos out of the door and back out into the Purge.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't done any Arya or Cersei chapters recently, but (in true asoiaf fashion) I'll be focusing on some characters more than others.  
> And Margaery is dead. You're welcome.


	26. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion, Bronn and Cersei finally make it back to Casterly Bank. They are surprised when they bump into Tywin, who has a treat in store for them.

In the end, they had to drag her away. Jaime had pried her finger nails out of his arm, Bronn had pulled her away from around her waist and Tyrion had made his jokes. She should have gone with him. She should have stayed with Jaime. Cersei said as much to her younger brother as she was carried the rest of the way to Casterly Bank. “I can imagine Stannis’ terror.” Tyrion had quipped, earning himself a ball of spittle on the back of his head. “It’ll take a lot more than that to wash the Lannister out of my hair, sweet sister. I am sorry to disappoint you.” She wanted to continue fighting, but she knew there was no use. Bronn’s grip on her was strong, her brother was irritatingly calm. Cersei would wait for the right moment…the right opportunity…

Her chance for opportunity did not come. As they turned onto the road that would lead them to Casterly Bank, she knew that she was out of time. Almost without her knowing, her body sagged against Bronn. Defeated. _I have failed_. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. Tyrion waddled his way down the road and into the tall building. It was dark inside. Apparently Gregor was working elsewhere. Tyrion didn’t even bother to check for intruders, just headed straight towards the golden elevators. She should have told him off for that, but she didn’t. If anyone was in here, they would take him down with her. She just hoped she’d live long enough to see him killed. That thought cheered her up a bit and as the elevator made its ascent, Cersei humoured herself with all the different ways her brother could be murdered, each one more brutal than the last.  
Cersei was so wrapped up in her fantasy, she hardly even noticed when the elevator stopped. Bronn carried her out onto her floor. Each of the Lannister children had their own floor near the top of the building so that they would not be in Tywin’s way. Cersei didn’t mind it though. Their father was always so busy and they were so out of the way that he never even noticed when either her or Jaime weren’t in their own bed. So when she saw her father silhouetted against the sky that glowed orange from a hundred fires, a moment of panic struck her. “Father, we had not expected to find you here.” Tyrion admitted. Tywin didn’t even turn to look at them. “You found her.” Tywin said in an uncaring tone.  
“Yes. Safe and sound.” Cersei released a guttural growl loud enough for only Tyrion to hear. “Bronn, put my sister down. Let her receive her scolding with a bit of dignity.” She could hear the smile in Tyrion’s voice and she could feel the fight begin to stir inside her once more. The moment her feet felt the soft carpet, she hurried over to her father as best she could with her injured leg. “Please, father. You sent Jaime to attack Stannis. Let me go too! He only has one hand. I’m a better fighter.” She insisted, trying to prevent any sense of begging to creep into her voice. Tywin Lannister turned to face her and she could see at once that he was angry. Cersei suppressed a shudder. “You will remain here, like I told you to.” He growled.  
“You won’t let me go anywhere, just because I’m a woman!” She cried, stamping her foot like a petulant child.  
“It has nothing to do with the fact you’re a woman. It is because you aren’t half as clever as you think you are.” His face was a cold, unwavering mask. Cersei wanted to tear it off. “I won’t stay here. You can’t make me.” She hissed, tilting her chin up defiantly.  
“Perhaps some entertainment I have planned will help change your mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get to the hunting grounds. The last Purge of the evening is going to be quite a show.” The corner of Tywin’s mouth twitched into what could have been a smile. Cersei’s brows knotted together as she quickly tried to understand what he meant. “Enjoy your evening.” They heard Tywin say. Cersei allowed herself to smile as the pieces all fell into place. Forgetting about Tyrion and Bronn who stood behind her, still confused, she moved into the lounge and turned on the television. As the screen lit up, a small laugh vibrated on her lips.     


	27. Asha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asha is reunited with her target once more. But the bastard is in no mood for fighting. When Asha works out why, she knows she'll die a happy woman.

The back alley was lit up by one light that flickered on and off spasmodically. The emergency exit light illuminated a few metres of green before it faded away into black. Asha tried her best to see the others as they waited. One of the men hammered on the large metal door. “Oi! Open up! I wanth to thee Tywin!” The masked man spluttered. Behind her, Asha saw Rickon being carried out of the van. He was awake, but only just. Davos stood behind her, looking as though he’d fought a hundred battles this night alone. “Do you know who these guys are?” She asked him. Davos just shook his head. Asha turned away from him as the door creaked open. “What?” The Large man grunted, stepping out of the building and towering over even the tallest of the masked men. Asha recognised him from earlier. He had been guarding the door when they’d been taken in to see Tywin Lannister and Roose Bolton. But why was he here? He should be at Casterly bank, and they were nowhere near. She could tell just by the smell of the putrid air. “I broughth the lasth Purge. The otherth have the resth.” The masked man spluttered.  
“They’re here already. You’re late.” The Mountain grumbled.  
“Not thoo late though?” The masked man held out his hand. Asha watched in horror as the giant passed over the money. She was being _sold_. Sold like some fucking car! “Take them in to join the others in the waiting room.” The Mountain ordered. Asha did not resist as she was pushed into the building. It was too late to escape and if she was to die, she’d die fighting. She allowed the masked men to lead them through to the waiting room, where they were shoved to the ground and left. When Asha looked up, she realised they were not alone.   
Theon whimpered. Ramsay growled. Sansa remained silent, transfixed.  
“Well fancy seeing you again.” Asha allowed herself to smile at the sight of the bastard, hands and feet bound together much like her own.  
“Rickon?” The Stark girl gasped.   
“S…Sansa?” Rickon sounded unsure. No doubt he had not seen his sister for many years. Perhaps he had even forgotten what she looked like. Asha didn’t watch them as they reunited, struggling to move towards each other with their bound limbs. She swallowed the pain as her own brother curled deeper into his captor. “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here, I promise.” They heard Sansa whisper.  
“Yeah, good luck with that.” Ramsay scoffed, cutting through the moment. Whatever warmth had filled the room at the Stark siblings reunion soon left as reality crashed down around them. “What does that mean? Where are we?” Davos piped up. Asha could tell he was already looking for a way out, some information as to where they were. The man was clever, she’d give him that, and he seemed to have unwavering loyalty. “This is a hunting ground. Not like the one out there. This one has been built specially. Here, they can hunt without any interruptions.” Ramsay grumbled, ignoring Theon who clung to his side.  
“Who is ‘they’?” Davos probed. Irritation flashed across Ramsay’s face. “Does it matter? We’re dead already, that’s all you need to know. Who the fuck are you anyway?” The bastard snapped.  
“The name’s Davos.”  
“Never heard of you.” Ramsay slumped his head back against the wall. Defeated. The bastard was defeated. And Asha had worked out why. “By they, you mean Tywin Lannister and his like, don’t you?” She asked, unable to hold back her smile.  
“I don’t have to answer to you, bitch. Do you like what I’ve done to your brother? He makes for a fine pet, wouldn’t you say?” Ramsay taunted half-heartedly.  
“What is broken can be mended.” She insisted, not chancing to look at Theon.  
“Oh, Theon isn’t broken. He’s destroyed. Aren’t you pet?” Theon gave no answer, but she could see him start to tremble.   
“Not Theon. Reek. Loyal Reek. Good Reek! It rhymes with weak, meek and sneak!” He began to mutter. Ramsay chuckled, watching Asha’s reaction.   
Much to his surprise, Asha began laughing too.  
“What are you laughing at?” Ramsay snarled. Asha doubled over, her sides aching. Each time she saw a confused face, her laughter grew. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to leak out. “Oh…you won’t get it…it’s too good…” She choked out.  
“What is? What’s so funny?” Rickon asked, wanting to join in on the joke. Asha tried to regain enough composure to tell them, but then another laugh joined hers and she was lost again. Sansa clutched her sides as the laughter filled her. Asha looked over and knew she understood. Davos didn’t seem to get the joke. “Why are you _laughing_?” Ramsay bellowed.  
“You want to know why the bastard over there looks so beat down?” She asked Davos, who didn’t truly understand what was or had gone on between them. “Poor Ramsay is upset because his Daddy tricked him!” She howled, laughing. “Oh, I can die a happy woman now!”  
“He’s sad because his Daddy let him have his fun, then ruined it so he could have his own! Poor Wamsay, did you lose the game? Does your Daddy want you dead like the west of us? What did it feel like when the hunter became the hunted?” Sansa mocked, making Asha lose her composure again. Ramsay turned red as the two girls rolled around on the floor in hysterics. Eventually, Rickon joined in, though he probably didn’t get the joke. “Fuck off!” Was Ramsay’s only retort. It did little in the way of saving face. “That’s enough! All of you!” Davos barked. Asha sighed as the humorous side to it died away. “You don’t know what he’s done Davos! You don’t understand.” She said, glaring at Ramsay.  
“I understand that we’re all in the same boat, and none of us has a paddle. We need to find a way out, and that’s going to involve…”  
“Nope. No fucking way.”  
“Working together.” Davos finished, setting off an explosion of disagreement.  
“There is no way in the seven hells I’m working with those bitches.” Ramsay roared.  
“He killed my brother!” Sansa cried.  
“And tortured mine! Look at him Davos! That thing at his side was my brother once.” Asha glowered at Reek who cowered behind his Master.  
“But you all want the same thing. Vengeance. Is that right? Ramsay wants his betters dead and…”  
“We want him dead. How the fuck are you going to make this work?”  
“Once we are out of here, Stannis will deal with him.” Davos promised.  
“Oh yes. I’m going to leap at that opportunity.” Ramsay growled.  
“Then we’ll leave you and see how long you last at the hands of your kindly, benevolent father and his companions.” Davos did not sound so kindly then. His voice was cold and hard. None of them could question his words. They looked about frantically as footsteps sounded outside the door. “I suggest you all make your choices quickly.”


	28. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa must make her decision quickly. The stakes are as high as the price that is paid.

As the men streamed into their waiting room, Sansa edged closer to her little brother, wanting to shield him. With her hands bound together, there was little she could do as the men dragged them apart. “Don’t hurt him, please!” She begged. “He’s just a boy!”  
“You’ll be keeping your mouth shut, Stark bitch.” The man holding her growled, tying a scrap of cloth over her mouth so her words were limited to meaningless shrieks.   
“Locke! It’s me, it’s Ramsay. Roose’s son. Clearly there’s been some…”  
“No mistakes mate. I like you Ramsay. You’re a cool kid. Looks like your Daddy doesn’t share the same appreciation.” The man who was holding her answered, his voice grim.  
“He can’t do this! I did everything he asked. What…” The rest of his words were lost as the gag tightened over his mouth. Sansa struggled to catch up with Rickon, who was being dragged off in front of her. He screamed through the cloth, forehead creased with anger and frustration. He was dead. Theon had killed him. Even Petyr had assured her of that. So where had he been all this time? Had someone sheltered him? Had he been with that man, Davos? The questions swam through her mind, drowning any sensible thoughts out. She should be planning an escape, a way to get Rickon out.  
_We need to find a way out, and that’s going to involve working together.  
_ At least there was something she and Ramsay could agree on. There was no way in Seven Hells she would work with him. Never. No fucking way.  
But then again, what other options were there?  
_What would Petyr have done?_  
He would have done whatever it took to stay alive. He would talk his way out of it, but that would be hard to do with the gag in her mouth. They were about to be hunted down, her six year old brother included. _I have to protect Rickon._ That meant vengeance would have to wait. Sansa was unable to turn and see what the others were thinking, but she hoped they had all come to the same conclusion.

They soon found themselves standing behind a deep green velvet curtain. Sansa could hear the people beyond chatting excitedly. She had been here before, many times. At school, Sansa had loved being in plays and dance performances. The sound of the audience, the real world beyond the curtain used to both excite her and make her nervous. But this time she was filled with a strange mixture of dread and determination. They were to be auctioned off like cattle, then led to the slaughter house. There was no way she’d let them survive to see the walk down.  
Behind the curtain, only small lights from the side of the stage illuminated their faces and Sansa looked around at her companions. Rickon was facing straight forward, though she could see him vibrating with a frightening rage. Asha too was focused, though it was impossible for Sansa to determine what on; killing Ramsay or working with him. Davos looked about anxiously, hoping for the same answers she was. Ramsay just glared. His creature cowered and whimpered; crying out each time one of the men touched him. It was not they he needed to fear. He’d lived with Ramsay the past year yet he seemed to adore him. How was that even possible? Petyr had been kind to her, in his own way, yet she’d hated him more with each passing day; how his hand always seemed to linger a little too long, or the way he’d make her kiss him on the lips and never on the cheek.  
She’d kiss Petyr a thousand times if it meant never being kept by Ramsay. In fact, she’d probably fuck his rotting corpse if it meant freedom.  
Somehow she doubted the people beyond the curtain would go for that deal.  
“And now it’s time for the last purge of the evening!” Sansa recognised the clear, crisp sound of Olenna Tyrell’s voice. Her head swam into confusion as the curtain rose and the white lights blinded her. The sound of men and women crying out their appreciation and gasping at the new stock roared in her ears. Slowly, her eyes began to adjust and she could make out Olenna’s wrinkled face. _Margaery! Loras!_ She had completely forgotten about them! The last she had seen of them they had been following Asha; their figures dwindling down a dark alleyway as they freed themselves of her. She was a Stark with the Stark luck, after all. Sansa didn’t bother to think about what had become of them once they’d abandoned her. Dead most likely.  
_I wonder if Olenna knows that Tywin and Roose are the reason her precious grandchildren are dead._  
It had been they that had sent Ramsay and his friends on the hunt. With the gag in her mouth, Sansa was unable to inform the old prune of her grandchildrens untimely demise.   
“Well what an impressive bunch ladies and gentlemen! So many familiar faces. This lot won’t go cheaply! Shall I start the bidding at £300,000?”  
Sansa squinted and saw more than one set of hands in the air. These people, normally so poised and proper, stretched their hands and waved frantically like children wanting the best toy in the toy box. “Do I have a bid for 400,000? 600,000?” Up and up and up the numbers went. It made Sansa sick. How could they bid on them like some artwork at a gallery? Then they were going to slaughter them! Had they not heard of giving money to the poor, like she’d believed the Lannister’s did when she was younger. She knew where the money went now.  
The price had gone over one million now. Anger made her tremble like Rickon had done. They would pay this money for the joy of slaughtering the unfortunates; a boy of six, an old man, a creature, a psychopath. She and Asha didn’t deserve it either. All they’d wanted was vengeance. Out of all of them, Ramsay deserved this the most. She’d learnt long ago that life was unfair, but now it felt as though she was being dealt the lesson all over again.  
“Going, going…gone! Sold for £1,050,000! Ladies and gentlemen, I have not seen a price that high since dragons roamed the streets!” The auction hall erupted with laughter. “If you will all make your way to the viewing gallery, the final purge will begin shortly.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? An update? Well bugger me!  
> Apologies for abandoning this for a while. I was...distracted.


	29. Reek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hunting ground, Reek fears what will happen to his master. If he survives the night, they will either be free or taken to Stannis.

The moment they were freed, Reek flung himself at his Master, wrapping his unrestrained arms and legs about him like some sort of crazed monkey. “Not now Reek.” Master snapped. Reek loosened his grip and sank to the floor. “See you on the hunt boys and girls!” Locke laughed as the door slammed shut.  
“Fuck you!” Ramsay roared back, making Reek cower and wail at his master’s feet. The room they had been freed into was pitch black, save for the stark white glow from the viewing gallery. That light was slowly beginning to dull though as the room filled up with people; champagne bottles in hand, ready for the final show.   
“Can’t we just break the glass?” Sansa asked as Reek was dragged to his feet.  
“Do you think they haven’t already thought of that? You can’t break the fucking glass you dumb bitch. It’s three inches thick and a metal screen slides down at the first sign of trouble in the hunting ground.” Master informed, turning away from Reek and peering into the gloom. The darkness was terrifying. It wasn’t like the confines of home. This darkness was alien and never-ending. “I was only asking, there’s no need to get bitchy about it!” Sansa snapped, making Reek flinch and shuffle closer to his master.  
“If you want help, you’re going to have to be a lot nicer than that.” Master growled in reply. The angry tone made Reek want to throw himself to the ground and try to soothe his Master, but he sensed that was not going to help right now. At least it was not Reek Master was mad at.   
“That’s enough, the pair of you.” The old man (whose name Reek could not recall) said. “Are you going to help us Ramsay?” He asked.  
“As long as those two keep their mouths shut.” Ramsay replied, indicating to Sansa and his sister.  
_No! Not sister! Reek doesn’t have a sister, only Master. Good Reek. Loyal Reek. Reek, it rhymes with meek, weak and…_  
“Let’s go then.” Ramsay moved into the shadows, adopting his hunter’s stance. Acting off instinct, Reek went onto all fours and followed him in complete silence. To those behind him, the position and the quietness of it was disturbing. To Reek, it was most comfortable; balancing the weight on his maimed limbs. He kept close behind his master as the darkness swallowed them up, though he struggled to keep up with his master’s pace. Ramsay nimbly dodged the obstacles that had been left in his path. Reek marvelled at his sure footedness; he must know this place well. Reek was glad he had not been brought here. He shuddered at the thought of what Ramsay and his friends could have done to him in a hunting ground.  
“Fuck!” Reek and Ramsay turned at the cry. From what the light cast by the viewing gallery could show them, Asha was picking herself up from the ground; frantically wiping herself down. “I did wonder what had happened to them.” Reek heard her say.   
“Are they the two you were brought in with?” Sansa asked. Reek saw Asha nod. “Gilly has a baby, not yet a year old.” The old man piped up. The three of them were silent for a moment. “If you lot are all done with your death mission. We’ve got to keep moving if you want to live.” Ramsay snapped. Reek continued to follow him. “Stay close to me Rickon.” Sansa whispered.   
_Rickon. I thought I’d killed him, but he escaped. I saw him.  
No. Not me. Theon. The bad one. Reek, Reek. My name is Reek!   
_ All of a sudden, Master was gone from sight. “M…master?” Reek squeaked, confused. A hand wrapped around his neck and yanked him to the left. “This way!” Ramsay hissed. Soon enough, the others appeared. Ramsay had hidden behind a low wall and they inched along so they could all fit behind it.   
“What now?” Davos asked.  
“We wait.”  
“For what?” Asha hissed.  
“You figure it out.” Ramsay spat, poking his head over the top of the wall. They sat in silence for a moment, waiting for a signal. Not that they knew what the signal was. “So what made you decide to help?” Davos turned to Ramsay, perhaps in an attempt to make polite conversation.  
“If there is a chance I can get Reek and I out of here alive I’m going to take it.”  
“Stannis isn’t going to let you walk free for your crimes boy.” The old man assured him.  
“You think I’m afraid of your fuck-buddy? Do you even know who my father is? I’m not afraid of Stannis.” Ramsay replied, still keeping an eye on the door they had entered from.  
_No one will hurt master. No one. I won’t let them. No one will hurt master.  
_ Reek repeated the words over and over again to convince himself that his master was safe.  
“Make no mistake, I’m not doing this for you lot. If I have to leave you here, I will.” Ramsay growled over Reek’s head. From somewhere by his side, a woman snorted. “Damn, and just as you were starting to grow on me bastard.” Asha muttered sarcastically. Ramsay’s retort was drowned out by a claxon that echoed through the hunting ground. A cheer went up from the viewing gallery and the hunted shrank down in their place behind the wall. “So what _are_ we going to do?” Sansa asked as quietly as possible. Ramsay ignored her and poked his head over the wall, only to fling himself back down again a moment later. “Fuck.” He muttered.   
“Master…master, what’s wrong?” Reek’s voice trembled anxiously, fearing his master had been wounded.  
“They’ve got night vision glasses.”   
“Oh, well that’s fucking brilliant!” Sansa muttered.  
“And guns.”  
“Even better.” Asha added.  
“So what are we going to _do_?” Davos asked. They all froze at the sound of a stone skipping across the concrete nearby. Then another bounced off a rock that must have been opposite them. Then another. Then another.  
“Rickon! What in seven hells are you doing?” Sansa hissed. Reek began to tremble as the sound of footsteps drew closer. They pressed their backs against the wall and held their breath. “When I tell you to Reek, run. Ok?” Ramsay whispered.  
“Come out little lamb! Come out, come out for the big bad wolf.” Reek recognised Locke’s mocking tone. The sound of a gun being loaded rang out across the hunting ground.  
A feral growl vibrated nearby.  
“Rickon, what are you doing? Rickon…DON’T!” Sansa screamed. Reek blinked and nearly missed the little boy as he flung himself into Locke’s legs, knocking him off balance. “The fuck you doing?” Locke yelled. It was too late. Rickon had found the dagger the hunter kept to skin his prey.  
When the boy held out the gun and night vision glasses, his arms were stained red up to the elbows. The others stared at him in stunned silence.  
“I got you some glasses.” The boy said, holding them out towards Ramsay. Before his sister could take them away, Ramsay snatched them out of the little boy’s grasp. Rickon handed the gun to Sansa, grinning proudly. Reek cowered away from the boy; the metallic tang of blood filling Reek’s sensitive nostrils from the fresh kill. Ramsay put the glasses on and peered over the wall again. “Shit, they’re coming. You know how to use that?” He asked Sansa.  
“Yes.” She snapped, shrugging the gun into position.  
“Ok. On three. One…two…”  
Machine gun fire drowned out Ramsay’s voice.   
The hunted threw themselves to the floor. Ramsay pinned Reek down beneath him; smothering him protectively. But no bullets hit them. Once the gunfire died down, screams could be heard along with panicked shouting and howls of pain. His master scrambled off of him to take a look. “Fucking hell.” Ramsay breathed, standing up. Reek instinctively followed suit. His mouth fell open with shock.  
The viewing gallery window was awash with blood. Cracks had formed caused by bullets from the outside. Bodies of those who had panicked and hoped to escape had piled up against the glass, crushing those who had front row seats. Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister’s faces where almost unrecognisable crushed against the glass. Beside him, Master began to laugh triumphantly.   
“You never finished that countdown Ramsay.” Sansa’s voice sounded behind them, but Ramsay was too distracted to notice.  
“One. Two.”  
Reek turned around.  
“Three.”   
The bullets left two neat holes in Master’s back.


	30. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya crosses another name off her list, but a ghost from the past prevents her from killing another.

Once she was certain all movement inside had ceased, Arya entered the room; gun at the ready. The bodies were scattered all across the floor and it was hard to move without stepping on someone. A door at the far end of the room had been flung open. She wasn’t sure how many had escaped. She didn’t care. Walking over to the pile of bodies by the window, Arya began her search. It did not take long. They were already trying their best to escape; pushing the bodies aside in an attempt to free themselves.  
Arya grabbed the one that appeared first. Roose Bolton showed no fear as she pulled out the knife she had hidden in her belt. It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. Fear was not what she craved. “For the Starks.” She hissed, plunging it into the man’s pale neck. He did not seem to register it at first, so she pulled it out and tried again. And again and again until her arm was red to the elbow.  
“That’s enough girl! The fucker’s dead.” The Hound barked. She allowed the body to fall to the floor, then turned to find the next.  
Just as she was about to drag Tywin Lannister out and deal him the same bloody justice, two shots rang out. Her head snapped up instinctively and she did her best to peer over the pile of bodies blocking the window. “Master!” Someone screamed.  
Arya barely heard it.  
The glimpse of red hair sent her sprinting for the far door. To her left was a long corridor with another door at the end of it. Arya ran as fast as she could, leaving the Hound far behind. “The fuck you doing?” He roared after her. She gave no answer. When she reached the door, she found it heavily bolted. “Come on! For fuck’s sake!” She cried, chewing her lip fretfully and pulling at the padlock. She _had_ to get in. She _had_ to…  
“I asked you what the fuck you were doing girl?” He yanked her back away from the door by the scruff of her neck.   
“Please! Please, you have to get me in there! My sister…Sansa…my sister is in there…” Arya did not care that she sounded like a whiny child. She didn’t care that she was desperately clinging to his arm. Sandor glared down at her for a moment. A long, painful moment. Then he shoved her aside, raised his gun and slammed it down on the padlock, breaking it in two. “Out the way.” He ordered gruffly. Arya obeyed, resisting the urge to bark back as she would normally do. _  
Sansa, my sister…I’m so close…  
_ It almost scared her. She hadn’t seen her sister for so many years. Now there was only a door between them.  
Sandor stepped back and took a few deep breaths before striking out with his foot. One kick was all it took to send the door crashing down. Arya stared at the opening. Nothing stood between them now, yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to move…  
“Go find your pack, wolf girl. I’ll see to it we’re done here.” He walked away before she could thank him. Not that she’d planned to. Arya forced her feet forwards towards the door. _Closer, just a little more…_  
Sansa was still standing where Arya had spotted her through the window; glaring down at a body on the floor with a gun in her hand. _Did she kill whoever that is? No, Sansa isn’t a killer. But then again, neither was I…  
_ “Sansa…” Her voice was barely higher than a whisper. The name felt strange being said aloud, as though it were a foreign tongue.  
“Sansa!” It was stronger that time. More familiar. The rift between their lives being pulled together again. Arya remained frozen at the doorway.  
Sansa dropped the gun. Slowly, as though uncertain if she’d heard anything, she looked up.  
“Arya?” It was her turn to struggle now. Sansa took a step towards her, looking at her as though she were a ghost that could disappear at any moment. “Sansa!” Arya called again, calling her sister to her. “Sansa!” She couldn’t stop. The name was familiar to her now. It was the sound of home, or what remained of it.   
Arya began to walk forward then, closing the gap between them.   
When they reached each other, it were as though they were unsure quite what to do with themselves. Arya looked her sister up and down as Sansa did her. Sansa _looked_ like a killer. A real killer. The sleek grey and white clothes; tight to allow her flexibility and speed. Nothing like Arya’s soiled t-shirt and leggings.  
“You know those are probably the worst colours you could wear. You can’t even blend into the dark!” Arya exclaimed.  
“Oh, get here Horseface!” Sansa laughed. To her surprise and slight irritation, her sister lifted her up to hug her. “Hey, you aren’t _that_ much taller than me!” Arya argued. Sansa didn’t let her go though. Arya hoped she’d never let her go again. She hugged her sister tight; breathing her in before opening her eyes…  
And looking down the barrel of a gun.  
“Sansa look out!” She screamed.   
With lightning speed, her sister dropped her and pushed her aside. Arya fell down and swore as she grazed her knee, but at least she was out of the bullet’s path. Arya looked back up at her sister, who smiled down at her.  
That was when Arya realised grey and white really _was_ the worst colour to wear.  
The blood spread quickly through the fabric; a bullet hole had torn through the grey top. Arya managed to move and catch her sister just in time before she fell hard onto the concrete.   
“No…no, you can’t…oh no…” Arya was unaware of the tears that wetted her cheeks.  
_Close. We were so close._  
“You can’t die!” She insisted, her voice petulant and childlike, but she didn’t care. “You can’t die. I need you Sansa, we’re family! You can’t leave me here alone!” Sansa stared up at her and smiled; struggling to keep her eyes open.  
“You…you aren’t…a…alone…” Her sister rasped. Arya frowned, confused by her words. Sansa’s smile broke then and her eyes looked around, searching for her sister’s hand. Arya gave it to her. “Bet…bet you never thought…thought…you’d be crying over…me.” Her sister laughed weakly.  
“Some people are worth crying for. You aren’t.” Arya joked back.  
Sansa grasped her hand tighter as the pain took hold.  
“Arya…Arya…I’m frightened…” Sansa confessed. A lone tear slid down her pale cheek.  
“It’s ok. I’m here. Let go Sansa. Say hello to our family for me.” Arya sniffed, wiping away the tears that blocked her vision. Sansa nodded and smiled, closing her eyes. Her sister’s final breath kissed her cheeks and Arya breathed it in; smiling at the scent of lemons.  
“Rickon! Don’t!” Arya’s breath caught in her throat.  
_You aren’t alone._  
When she looked up, she saw nothing but a blur of movement. The boy propelled himself through the air and sent his target sprawling to the floor. “YOU KILLED MY SISTER!” Her little brother screamed. Arya watched with awe-filled horror as her brother raised his fist. There was only a second to glimpse the knife in his hand before it was plunged down into his prey’s throat.


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay meets justice. The legal kind.

He awoke to whiteness. A white room. A white light. White sheets. “Fuck.” He groaned as the sight assaulted his pounding head. But when he tried to raise his hand to his forehead, he found his arms were strapped down. When attempting to raise himself up, he found his middle had been fixed down as well.  
Ramsay tried to push against the restraints and free himself; not giving up until the pain in his chest brought tears to his eyes. Angry and frustrated at how weak he felt, he slumped back onto the bed. Groaning and rolling his eyes, he began to yell at the top of his lungs. “HELLO? LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” He screamed, rattling the restraints to add to the effect.  
“Ramsay Snow.” The voice seemed to come from nowhere and the shock of it made him cease his struggling. His head turned from side to side; searching for whoever it was that had spoken.  
“Who are you? Where am I?” Lying here, helpless, pissed him off beyond belief. If he craned his head up enough, he could see a large mirror, he looked a total wreck, but he knew that mirror was also a window, allowing whoever was on the other side to watch him. “Let me out of this fucking room!” He thumped himself against the bed before screaming out in pain. Fire tore through his chest, slowly receding until there was a dull ache.  
_You never finished that countdown Ramsay._  
“Oh fuck.” He groaned. Sansa, she’d shot him. It all came back to him now. The hunting ground, his father setting him up and…  
“Reek.” He whispered the word to himself. “Where’s my Reek?” He called out.  
“All in good time son.” The voice replied. Then he felt something in his arm. He had been attached to a drip and they were pumping more of whatever it was into him. “No…no don’t…” He tried to scramble away, despite the restraints. “No! Reek…Reek…” The name was the last thing he could say before the world went from white to black.

When he woke up again, he wasn’t alone. Two men were in the room; both with greying hair and receding hairlines. One was close shaven, the other with a salt and pepper beard. Ramsay vaguely remembered him. His face screwed up in concentration as he tried to remember where he knew him from and what his name was.  
“Davos.” He croaked. “You’re Davos.”  
The man’s mouth twitched into a grimace. “That’s right lad.”  
“And do you know who I am?” The other asked. Ramsay turned his head to look at him and frowned, trying to recall if he knew his face. As far as he knew, he didn’t. He didn’t care either.  
“Where’s my Reek?” He growled.  
“Dead.” The stranger said. Ramsay’s breath caught in his throat and he felt as though the walls were closing in. His breathing became sharp and shallow. He turned his head away from him and looked at Davos, still gasping for breath. “I…he…what?”  
“Theon Greyjoy is dead, your…Reek. He shot Sansa Stark and was then attacked by Rickon Stark. A knife to the throat. His sister took the body.” Ramsay stared at him for a long while; his mouth opening and closing in shocked disbelief. He wanted to scream and rage but no scream would come out and he was still restrained on the bed.  
“Where’s that little shit? Bring him to me! Bring him to me right now! I’ll tear _his_ fucking throat out. BRING HIM TO ME!” He managed. The stranger just scowled.   
“You’ll see him, don’t worry. But for now you’ll rest.” He turned away from Ramsay, nodding to Davos and signalling that the meeting was over.  
“I WANT MY REEK!” Ramsay roared, pounding his fists against the bed. “Who even are you?” He called, making the men stopped. The stranger turned and almost smiled. “I’m Stannis Baratheon, Mayor of Westeros.” Then they both left.  
Ramsay might have wept were it not for the mirror they could watch him through.

Stannis had arrived soon after they had managed to pull Rickon off of the bloody body that had, a long time ago, been Theon Greyjoy.   
They had all panicked when they heard voices; hundreds of people in the building, all at once, and the sounds of guns being readied. Then they had found them all in the hunting grounds. Arya with Rickon, trying desperately to calm him down. Davos and Asha staring at the boy in stunned disbelief. Sansa and Theon’s bodies and Ramsay’s, rising and falling with each shallow breath. Arya hadn’t realised until Stannis had found them, and by then it was too late. She had tried to attack the body as it was carried out but she was held back.  
“Your time will come, little one.” One of the wildlings holding her back had laughed, earning himself some spit in the face.  
“You don’t understand!” She’d screamed. “I’m Arya Stark and he killed my brother, Jon Snow!” That made all the Wildlings turn and look. The crowd had parted as Stannis marched through. “You’re Arya Stark?” He had asked. And then she’d told him everything, because she knew she did not have to hide anymore. She’d met Stannis a few times. He had been her father’s best friend’s brother and had been at numerous social gatherings. They always made fun of him for being so miserable.  
But now Arya was grateful. So she told him everything, even her list. Her enemies should be his enemies, after all.  
“Well you can cross Cersei Lannister off your list.” Stannis had said. Apparently Casterly bank had caught fire, with Cersei Lannister still inside. Perhaps she had been distracted by something and she hadn’t been able to get out in time. It was believed Tyrion was in there too, though a body had not been found. Jaime Lannister had been cut down during the fight.  
Arya could tell that Davos had been angry when he learned some woman had stopped them from burning this place too because she predicted this was where they all were. She had saved them. Davos wasn’t too happy about that.  
They had let Asha go, and Theon’s body with her. It wasn’t like anyone wanted it. Sansa’s body was buried alongside the rest of their family in a private ceremony; just her and Rickon. It was only those two left after all, until they found Bran at least. The new mayor had sent out a search party to find him, but so far there had been nothing.   
But Arya couldn’t think about that right now.  
“Are you sure he should be watching this?” Davos nodded towards Rickon, who was stood between two wildlings, perched on his tiptoes. Arya smiled a small smile. “Yes. I do. Are you sure he will stay inside?”  
“All the other entrances have been sealed up. He won’t be able to get out once he’s in.”  
“Good.” Davos gave her a perplexed glance before moving away to stand beside Stannis. The mayor nodded, giving the signal, and the large door was pulled open by multiple Wildlings; the rusted hinges making it too hard for them to be opened by one man alone.  
“Bring him forward.” Stannis did not raise his voice, but they heard him. Ramsay was dragged forward, still half out of it from the drugs.  
“Ramsay Snow, you are a murderer, a savage and a sadist. Your crimes are past forgiveness. But the night of the Purge has been abolished and by the laws of this city, I cannot have you killed.” The bastard’s head lolled back, his eyes struggling to stay open and register the mayor’s words. “But we must have justice.” Stannis nodded again.   
A smile played on Arya’s lips as the limp body was dragged towards the door. And then, when it was shut, she waited.

He wasn’t even sure if his eyes were open. Wherever he was, it was pitch black. An unpleasant contrast to the bright rooms he had woken to before.  
Ramsay groaned as he moved into a sitting position; his chest still ached, but he had a feeling the pain did not come from the bullet wounds.  
The room he was in was cold, and his eyes slowly began to adjust until he could just about make out walls on either side of him, carved out of stone. Behind him was a wall made of thick metal. It took him a while to work out it was not a wall at all but a door. Where was he? He had been moved here whilst unconscious, but where had he been moved to? This was no cell. He could tell that there were only two walls and one door. It was a tunnel. But where did it lead to?  
From somewhere in the catacombs, a creature released a guttural growl.  
Ramsay’s hands curled into claws as he scrambled backwards; slamming against the metal door and wincing at the noise it made. “Let me out!” His voice was a hushed whisper at first, but it soon grew in volume. “GET ME THE FUCK OUT NOW!” He could hear it. The creature was coming.  
From beyond the door, Ramsay could have sworn he heard children laughing.  
He was about to call out again when his words turned to ice in his throat; frozen by the sound of heavy breathing and another growl.  
“Here Shaggydog!” A little boy called from beyond the door.  
Ramsay held his breath and stared fearfully into the bright green eyes.


End file.
